Blurred
by StrangeSpark
Summary: "Nothing is black and white. If it were that simple, we'd have fewer enemies. Blurred lines are easier to cross." An engineer, a soldier, a Jedi, and how their small lives influenced a rebellion. Appearances by cannon characters in later chapters.
1. Rend

**Important AN at the end of this chapter. Please see for news about further updates.**

* * *

 _Rend  
(v. used with object): To separate into parts with force or violence._

"Please state your name, species, sex, and, if applicable, your rank."

"Miraan Voxx, human, female, and I have no rank."

"For what position are you applying?"

"Engineer."

"And what skills could you bring to the Imperial Navy as an engineer?"

"Well, I have several specialties, such as a familiarity will all types of ion engines, a particular knowledge of the internal workings and requirements of several models of hyperdrive. I'm a fast learner and am able to keep up with demand in a field where new items are constantly coming into the market."

"I see, and why did you decide to become an engineer?"

"I don't have many talents. I can't create a compelling art piece, I don't know how to cultivate land, I can't cook a decent meal to save my life, and I can't pilot worth a bantha's backside. I know one thing, and that is how machines work. I can repair them, take them apart, clean them, and put them back together again. You want power re-routed? I can do that with my eyes closed. You want to know why a power converter is making a funny sound? I will find it, fix it or replace it, and have everyone home before lunch."

"Please remain focused on the question, Miss Voxx."

"I apologize. My point is that I can't think of a better way to serve the Empire, than by doing what I do best."

"Thank you."

He was in pain. That was about all he knew for certain. Considering his line of work, this pain was rather significant. He focused on his body and found that the greatest majority of his pain was centered in his left leg and lower left back. His next thought was that he felt oddly cool. Pain typically came with a certain amount of heat, but he was experiencing the sensation of coolness and a slight weightlessness. Was he dead? It was likely. Though he was almost certain that he could feel his heart beating. Yes, that _was_ the sensation of blood moving in his veins. He tried to recall how or why he was here, wherever here was. The last thing he remembered was the sound of rending metal and a lot of shouting, then wave upon wave of pain until darkness clouded his vision. The memory was enough to snap his eyes open. So he wasn't dead after all. He saw blurry shapes of the medical bay and rows of empty bacta tanks, identical to the one he occupied and a couple medical droids milling about. A sharp pain lanced up his leg and made him look down at his injury.

She had been in and out of the medical bay all day and most of the night. She didn't even know what time it was when her sector commander came and shook her awake. She didn't bother with her boots, settling with pulling on her bright yellow engineering pants and her bantha leather jacket. She ran down the corridors barefoot all the way from her quarters to the medical bay. A droid greeted her as the door hissed open and told her what she had known all along, but was still unwilling to accept. She thanked the droid for doing its due diligence and walked shakily to the gurney that held a pallid Rodian. She sat heavily in the seat beside the small bed and tried to rouse its occupant. He wouldn't move. Though she knew he wouldn't, she was still wishing from one side of the Galaxy to the other that he would show some small sign that he knew she was there. A swell of emotion grew in her chest, crowding oppressively around her heart and constricting her throat. For a moment she couldn't breathe and couldn't help the single tear that rolled down her cheek. She felt so useless; so irrelevant. The engineer in her wanted to find what was wrong and patch it up, but living beings were well outside her scope of expertise and she wished not for the first time that day that she had gone into medicine. But there was nothing she could do for the broken body on the bed and it was killing her. She took a hold of his ashen, green hand and held onto it like a lifeline until all traces of life left him.

He swung his legs- or rather his leg- over the side of his bunk. The prosthetic could hardly be called a leg as it was little more than a metal rod, a hinge, a ball joint, and a plastoid lump. They told him it was only temporary, something to help him walk while parts were ordered for a better prosthesis. While he knew full well that the loss of his limb should not make him feel like less of a man, he couldn't help it. He felt like less, like he was broken and not worth fixing. They could replace his leg to be sure, but he had lost a part of himself, along with three of his brothers. There was no going back, so he couldn't dwell on it for long, but there was a part of him that just wanted to be whole again.

His commanding officer had told him that he wouldn't be able to serve on active duty until his prosthesis arrived and he cleared rehabilitation. After a lengthy conversation with his CO, and several appeals to someone higher up, it was agreed that he could remain onboard the _Devastator_ as long as they found something for him to do. He would find out where they had assigned him today. It didn't make the getting out of bed any easier, knowing that he was all but sidelined while his brothers of the 501st were putting their lives on the line. Still, he managed to stand up, pull on his gray regs and walk out of his room with the help of a spare length of thin coolant piping attached to an old blaster grip that was doubling as a cane. He was still a soldier, and he would face this day just as he had every single day that had come before this one.

The short journey from the barracks to the Admiral's quarters seemed to take much longer than it used to. The looks he received in the corridors were doing nothing to help his mood either. His fellow troopers nodded to him and then looked away as if they didn't know what to say to him and the other personnel would either ignore him completely or give him brief sympathetic glances and he wasn't sure which one was worse.

The doors hissed open to the Admiral's office and he walked in. He was attempting to take some small comfort in that wherever they decide to place him, at least he would remain on the ship and among his few remaining brothers. It was a small mercy but it would one that he would be grateful for. Perhaps they'd give him a janitorial position, scrubbing the 'freshers and cleaning the barracks. That wouldn't be a bad job; it was low key and would give him plenty of time to heal. But it would also give him a lot of time to think and he wasn't entirely sure that was a good thing. The sight of both the Admiral and Commander Jir stopped him in his tracks. He stood ata attention the best that his injury would allow.

"Good day, Trooper. At ease."

"Sir." He relaxed his posture.

"Trooper four-one-five-five, you are being reassigned."

* * *

 **Okay, so here's the deal: I realize it has been weeks since my last chapter update. In those weeks I have taken counsel with my friends that give me advice on my stories every now and again. Both parties have concluded (with no shortage of debate, I assure you) that it will be highly beneficial for the story to be placed on hiatus for the time being. I do not intend for this hiatus to be permanent, however I do not know how long it will remain so. With the hiatus in place I intend to take another look at how the story so far flows and how that will transition to where I want the story to end up.  
**

 **A most gracious thank-you to everyone who has touched this story, even if you never make it past this first chapter. A special thanks to the story followers. Seeing that people were following the story kept my spirits up through all 18 chapters of this wild ride. Thank you all and I'll see you again soon.  
**


	2. Rancor

_Rancor  
(n.): Rankling resentment or ill will; hatred; malice._

* * *

The rivets were a good distraction and a good outlet for her anger. They just didn't want to stay taut and hold the damn ship together, did they? Her wrench loosened and tightened each bolt in turn and her soldering gun ensured that they held together. It was rather mundane work today, but her boss had decided that she should be relegated to the trivial tasks while the loss was still fresh on everyone's mind. Tomorrow she'd be back in the engine room fixing the heavy-duty stuff like she was supposed to.

Suvo had been a good mechanic and an even better partner and friend. She knew that they would be hard pressed to find a partner better suited for her, or who could put up with her for more than a few days. They had tried recently. Three potential partners had come and three had gone, citing that she was too...what was the word they had used? Controlling, that was it. One even filed a formal complaint that took up almost a whole datachip. Not that they could really do anything about it, her record was impeccable. Truth was she rather liked working solo. It gave her time to think; time to sort out her priorities. She needed someone she could trust and so far the only person she had trusted was dead. No one wanted to work with her and that was fine. She didn't need anyone and the sooner her boss realized that, the sooner she could get back to doing her job.

"Voxx!" She heard her sector commander shout over the hiss of her soldering gun. She shut it off and lifted her safety goggles. There he was, standing on the platform below her with someone in tow. She groaned to herself. Another recruit she had to turn away. She replaced her goggles and finished her work on the last rivet. She'd be damned if she were accused of not finishing a job because a new body showed up.

"On my way!" she shouted after the job was done to her satisfaction. She powered the gun down, removed her goggles and helmet and tapped a few buttons on the single-person repulsor platform. The platform moved at her command down to where her sector commander and the new guy were waiting. She grabbed her tool belt and replaced it around her waist as she jumped off the platform and walked the few feet to the two men. A quick look at the other man told her that he was a clone, which surprised her. She had never seen a clone this far down before, nor had she really met one this close up. As far as she knew there were very few of them left. A closer look told her that he had been injured somewhat recently if the scar that ran from his temple along the length of his jaw was any indicator. She turned to her commander, a tall, tawny Bothan, for an explanation.

"Voxx, this is Stormrooper ST four-one-five-five. He's been injured and is in need of a job. I thought you could show him the ropes." She looked back at the trooper, who was leaning a little heavily on his cane and trying not to show it. Her heart constricted unexpectedly. He must have been badly injured. But if that were the case why send him down here? An engineer's job was one of the more dangerous ones on any ship, even for those in the best condition. The trooper looked to be in his late forties or early fifties. That was pushing it on the age limit for engineers, and with an injury that was probably very serious, he shouldn't have even been considered.

"ST four-one-"

"It's Jax, Sir."

"Jax, this is Miraan Voxx, one of our best engineers." The Bothan introduced. Jax held his hand out for her to grasp. His almost-gold eyes searched her face for a moment and then fell back to the dark gray deck plates under their feet. She shook his hand a little reluctantly. She wasn't a huge fan of stormtroopers in the first place, they reminded her of little more than flesh and blood droids. It was unnerving. She turned again to her commander.

"Can I speak with you a moment?" she asked, making it blatantly obvious that the new guy was not welcome. He nodded and leaned against the wall. The Bothan sighed and acquiesced. They moved several yards away from the trooper and she made to start tearing into her boss for springing a new guy on her again, but he held his hand up for her to be quiet.

"Voxx, I know what you're going to say, but this is coming from over my head. He's been assigned here just until the parts for his new prosthesis arrive." He said calmly. She just stared at him for another moment.

"He's missing a _limb_?" she asked after a moment's stunned silence. "Haskit, how do you expect me to work with him? This job is dangerous enough as it is without me putting my life into the hands of a three-limbed man."

"You haven't even met him yet, Voxx. You don't know what he's capable of."

"I don't have to, all the bucket-heads are the same. They bumble around with their blasters and do what they're told."

"Then you shouldn't have a problem." He replied smoothly. She grimaced and crossed her arms over her chest. "Look, Miraan, this isn't me talking. These re-assignment orders came from the very top." He said, trying to sound pragmatic. "I know that loosing Suvo was hard on you, it's been hard for all of us, but with the investigation still pending I'm relegating you to routine maintenance and I'm assigning Jax as your partner. And, no, I will _not_ back out of that decision, not this time." He concluded to the look of astonishment on her face. She started to splutter out a protest but he turned his back to her and walked back down the platform and said something to Jax, giving him a pat on the shoulder. She could not believe this. She was being relegated to the maintenance circuit and partnered with an old, three-limbed clone stormtrooper. She raked her hands through her short hair and released an exhale that desperately wanted to be a scream of frustration.

After a few moments of remaining in this position, she turned back down the platform and strode towards the trooper. She collected her toolbox, helmet and gloves from the repulsorlift and paused in front of Jax and looked him once over. She hummed to herself and then looked back up at him, he did his best not to look at her.

"Well," she said, clicking her tongue behind her teeth thoughtfully. "First, you're going to need some proper clothes." His expression was confused.

"Sorry?" he asked.

"We need to get you an engineering uniform." She replied, starting down the platform towards the next corridor. "Unless of course you enjoy being electrocuted on a regular basis. Come on, I think we have some extra in the repository." She said without turning around and she heard the dull 'shift- _clunk'_ of his awkward gait following her.

* * *

This was not what he had been expecting. He had not expected the re-assignment orders to be directly approved by Lord Vader, he had not expected to be placed in the engineering sector, and he had certainly not expected being assigned to partner with a grumpy woman. He had seen the judgment in her expression as she appraised him and the sour look that washed over her when she realized he was incomplete. He realized he wasn't wanted and that was fine by him. He was only here as long as it took to order the needed parts. He didn't need to like it he just had to follow orders, just like always.

"Jax?" he looked up at his fellow clone, Brek, who was peering at him across the mess table with a concerned expression. His food was halfway to his mouth and he paused, taking a minute to replace the slice of nerf. "You alright, Lieutenant? You were a little phased there." He nodded simply in response. He just wanted to get back to his meal.

"Are the grease suckers treating you alright?" Gael, another of his brothers, asked placing a disdainful emphasis on the rude nickname for the engineers.

"Yeah, fine." He replied. It wasn't a lie, but it might have been too generous a description for the handful of curt sentences Voxx had said to him, most of which were instructional. Once he'd been outfitted in the engineering regs, he'd been dismissed and told to report to the lower decks the next morning. "I'm starting officially tomorrow." He added really to get them off his back.

"Who did you say they assigned you to?" Jax pushed aside the annoyance that accompanied Brek's question and instead focused on the question itself.

"Miraan Voxx." He said, cutting his nerf into smaller bites. There was a silent pause followed by a quiet rash of muttering.

"I've heard of her."

"Wasn't she the one who-"

"I heard she made a Besalisk cry."

"What was that about her first partner?" He wanted to tune all of this out. He was having enough problems without hearing all the bad rumors about his new partner. But somehow he couldn't help but listen in on the conversation that was brewing about the woman.

"Well he died just a couple weeks ago wasn't it?"

"Under mysterious circumstances is what I heard."

"I heard she's under investigation. They're thinking she's suspicious."

"They think she killed her last partner?" Jax asked, almost choking himself on a piece of his nerf. He couldn't help himself. A cold pit of dread had begun to form in the pit of his stomach. Had they known this when they'd assigned him to her partnership?

"No one's said anything yet, but that's the word."

"And I'm certain this is the word of someone reliable?" Came a voice unfamiliar to every trooper present save Jax. He turned and saw Miraan Voxx standing at the other end of the table with a tray in her hand. Her steel-gray eyes bore into Gael, who had been the last to speak. "Someone you'd trust with your life, I assume?" Her tone was icy and Jax had to look away.

"What do you want, gremlin?" Brek demanded. She turned her glare on him.

"Peace throughout the galaxy, trooper, what do you want?" she snarled. She didn't even look at Jax before storming out of the mess with her food. He turned his attention back to his food and took no further part in the conversation for the rest of the meal.


	3. Incunabula

Incunabula  
(n.): The first traces or earliest stages of anything

* * *

"What did Haskit say to you the other day?" She asked as she checked the sector five electrical panel with her datapad in hand. She felt more than saw his head snap in her direction. Up to this point, all she had really said to him were short instructions and observations, which he would carry out or acknowledge in silence. She still hadn't forgotten the conversation she had the mischance of overhearing in the mess and she hadn't quite forgiven him for taking part in said conversation.

"Sorry?" she heard him ask over her shoulder from where he was observing what she was doing. He was either very good at playing dumb or he really didn't remember what she was referring to. Or maybe he was just shocked that she was speaking to him about something other than tools or the inner workings of a Mark 2 inline fuel core.

"Before he left the platform, after he introduced us," She said again, looking at him. "What did he say to you?" She could see the wheels in his mind turning, mulling over whether to tell her or not. She checked off on the sector five readings and disconnected her 'pad from the terminal. "You don't have to tell me. I was just curious." She said, ready to move on to the next sector.

"He said that I needed patience." He said matter-of-factly. She shot him a confused look and handed him the datapad. "He said you were a good worker, a great engineer, and likely a decent person, but you don't trust easily, and that to earn that trust I just need patience."

"Very kind of him." She replied. In truth she was a little shocked. She'd given Haskit a hell of a time in the past, but she did work hard. She had never really taken anyone else's appraisal to heart because it didn't really matter, but still it was very kind of Haskit to tell a complete stranger that.

"He also said you've experienced tragedy." She stiffened at that. Her sector commander had no right to tell anyone that information. He shouldn't have even known. That was the ship-wide rumor mill hard at work, she suspected, and it deeply bothered her. Outwardly, she shrugged it off.

"Well, who hasn't?" she grumbled, picking up the pace a little, making Jax have to struggle to keep up. "Come on, I want to get to sector eight before chow time."

"Can I ask you something, Sir?"

"Only if you don't call me sir. I'm not a sir and I'm certainly not your superior."

"What happened to your partner?" She stopped dead in her tracks. It was a fair enough question, and the rumors had gotten a bit out of hand. But no, not just yet. She wasn't ready. She shook her head.

"Well, bucket-head, that really doesn't concern you, does it?" She said rather sharply. To her surprise, he nodded.

"I suppose not" He said. She must have looked like she required an explanation because he continued. "It isn't any of my business, you're right. I was just curious." He said and continued walking down the corridor. She shook herself out of her very brief stupor and the two wandered down the hall in search of sector six.

She didn't go to the mess that night.

* * *

"Okay, I've got one." She said from her perch, hanging from a ventilation shaft over his head. He handed her another tool from her obstinately organized toolbox. They had fallen into a routine in the last few weeks. They got their assigned level and attended to everything listed on the datapad. They had also begun a kind of game, where one thought of a question and the other had to answer then ask their own question. It wasn't truly a game, but it took the edge of monotony off their tasks. Currently it was Voxx's turn.

"Shoot." He replied.

"Your strangest or shortest engagement." She said hauling herself back into the vent to replace the filter. He mulled this over in his mind and when she reappeared he had an answer.

"Well I went to Kashyykk once. The whole mission from touchdown to takeoff was half an hour." She gave him a strange look and handed him the tool back, which he replaced immediately.

"What was the mission?"

"Honestly, I don't remember. We were briefed on the fly and then told we got bad intel and were back on the gunships before we really got our bearings." He heard her make a contemplative noise in the back of her throat. He looked up again to see her resting her chin on her folded arms just inside the shaft.

"I've got a sort of…personal question for you." She said, somewhat reluctantly. That was enough to pique his curiosity, usually she was more straightforward with all of her inquiries.

"That's two in a row, but I'll let it slide this once." Her expression held no humor as she peered down at him from the vent.

"Do you agree with everything you did for the Republic?" He opened his mouth and closed it again. The question surprised him, so much so that he was somewhat stunned into a brief silence. It must have registered on his face as Voxx spoke again. He saw something spark in her eyes but it was there and gone so fast that he was left wondering if it was a trick of the dim light of the vent and the brightness of the corridor.

"Here, I'll rephrase." She said. "Do you have any regrets from your time in the Clone Wars?" She was looking at him in a way that made him feel like she would be analyzing every word that came out of his mouth. She was testing him. He mulled the question over and over and decided that honesty would have to wait. He could tell her about all the times he saw his brothers die on a single, blurred together battle ground and did nothing for them but keep fighting and forget their names. He could tell her of the numerous nights he awoke in the night to screams, sometimes other trooper's, sometimes his own, and did nothing to show support. He could tell her about how he couldn't go near the mess on fried bantha steak night because the smell was too similar to charred human flesh. He could tell her about everything he wished he could have done to help his brothers had he the foresight and the skills to do it. Instead he simply shrugged. She was allowed to keep her secrets, so he would keep his.

"We were never allowed time for regrets." He said. She cocked her head to the side, questioning, wanting him to continue. "We were either in battle, coming back from battle or being shunted off for another battle. During transit we were constantly training, gaining more knowledge. There wasn't much down-time to think about what we regretted about what we did or were doing. We just followed orders and hoped we came out alive." He looked back up at her, leaning on his cane. She nodded.

"It's probably something you want to look into." She said, starting to lower herself down from the vent. Catching her by the waist he set her down on the floor. She took a moment to dust herself off and pick up the vent grate. He made a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat in reply.

"Gimme a leg up, big guy." She ordered and he rolled his eyes. He scooped her tiny frame up and onto his shoulder so she could replace the ventilation grate. "Think of it this way." She continued. "If you don't know what you regret in your life, how can you strive to make your future better?" The grate fell back into place and he let her back down. She bent down to start collecting her toolbox and her datapad.

"Well," she said when she was done with her post-job inspections. "That's all we really have for today so I guess you're released from my servitude for now."

"Finally." He said, feigning relief. "I was beginning to think I would never breathe free air again." He could almost hear her eyes rolling in their sockets as she closed up her kit and picked the box up by its handle.

"Don't push it, big guy, you and I have Bridge duty tomorrow. I want you on the upper levels by oh-five hundred." She said. He knew she was serious, but he couldn't help but detect a hint of humor in her expression. Then she turned and started walking back towards the lift that would take her to the lower levels. He turned around and limped in the direction of the barracks. Then, he turned.

"Voxx?" he called down the corridor after the woman. She turned and looked at him with a puzzled but expectant expression. "Do you have any regrets?" The question seemed to shock her just a bit and for a moment she was silent.

"Yes." She said heavily. Without elaborating, she turned her back on him and continued her way down the corridor. He didn't try to stop her or gather any more information. Judging from the weight of the single word she'd said, he wasn't certain he wanted to know what her regrets were.

* * *

 **For the next chapter: I am encouraging some caution if you are a reader under the age of 14/15. This story does deal with some darker themes and that is why it is rated M. I do not wish to scar any young psyches if I can help it so here is your warning: _Proceed With Caution!_  
**


	4. Pyrophoric

_Pyrophoric  
(adj.): Capable of igniting spontaneously in air._

* * *

Everything was chaos. People were running through the streets, children were crying for their parents, buildings were on fire. Everywhere she could see panic and confusion. From behind her a small hand grasped hers and she heard a sniffle. She turned and patted the girl's head that stood pressed against the wall. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying and her bottom lip was quivering. She gave the girl a stern look and pressed her index finger to her lips. The girl's lip never stopped its quivering but she nodded her understanding. The young woman returned her attention to the young, dark-haired man in front of her who returned her gaze and gave her a curt nod and held up the five fingers of his left hand and started counting down. Three…two…one…run. The three figures took off across the intersection that bisected the side street. The sound of blasterfire grew louder and then softer as they ran to the cover of the buildings on the other side. The little girl sniffled again.

"My feet hurt." She whimpered, squeezing the woman's hand. Her heart constricted.

"I know, Mishi, but we'll be able to rest soon." She said doing her best to smile genuinely. The poor little girl didn't know what was going on. Hopefully she would never know. Mishi nodded and looked down at her shoes. She hefted the toolbox onto her shoulder, her arm was getting tired of carrying the heavy crate but if they were fleeing the planet, she would need her tools in order to get a job somewhere else to support these two.

They came up on another intersection and the young man held up a closed fist. She looked down at the girl, who put a finger up to her lips and she smiled and nodded. The girl was so smart. Five…four…get ready to run…three…breathe, use your adrenalin…two…one…run. The three bolted across the street again. Blaster fire filled their ears and it took a moment for her to realize that they were being shot at. They had been seen. The little girl tugged hard on her hand. She fell forward and the toolbox went flying. Her tools scattered across the street. She turned to pick the girl up and saw the still-smoking blaster hole square between the girl's eyebrows. The planet stopped turning.

Everything slowed to a reddish-brown blur all around her. All she could see in front of her was the body of the little girl. A shrill sound reached her ears, but soft and muddled like she was submerged in water. Time resumed its natural speed and it was then she realized that the muddled sound was that of her own horrified scream. She cradled the girl in her arms, she was too heavy and her eyes stared blankly up at the smoky sky. An unshed tear rolled lazily down her cheek. Her heart was beating faster, and her mind was racing, trying and failing to process what was happening around her. She could feel herself shaking and she was aware of tears falling from her eyes. The little body in her arms was much too still and heavy. Knowing somewhere inside that it was useless, she clutched onto one of the girl's shoulders and shook her.

"Mishi?" she choked out. She received no response. Desperation flooded her veins full of adrenalin and she shook the girl's body harder and shouted her name as if she could wake her from a deep sleep. The _clack-clack-clack_ of armored boots against stone grew closer and closer. Tears blurred her vision as she clutched the girl's body to her chest and began rocking back and forth to quell the shaking in her limbs.

"Shouldn't we help, Sir?" Said a mechanical voice from somewhere above her. She was sobbing now.

"Nothing we can do. They stepped into the line of fire. Move on." The clacking moved away and she felt ice creep into her veins. They had killed her. They had killed Mishi, a little girl not yet able to write her own name on flimsi scraps. They had killed her, and they walked away. Her vision cleared instantly and the ice melted away leaving an unrelenting inferno in its wake. With shaking hands, she reached out and closed the girl's delicate blue eyes. She laid the girl on the street and undid the clasp of her own cloak. Brown was not an appropriate burial shroud for a child, but it was all she had to give.

Still shaking, she turned to the spilled contents of her toolbox, scattered all along the street. She grabbed the first thing she saw, a hefty wrench, and started back the way they had just come, after the white armored men that had just taken the most precious and innocent life in the galaxy.

The first fell before he even knew what hit him. A well-aimed blow between the top of his back plate and the bottom of his helmet cracked his spine and he collapsed onto the street. The second turned his blaster on her, which she batted away, wielding the wrench like a club. A sharp pain grazed her shoulder and told her that a vibroblade had come dangerously close to cutting her carotid artery. She pushed the heel of her hand up and under the soldier's chin and sent him staggering back a step, which gave her enough room to bring her wrench across his faceplate. He stumbled onto his knee and she took the chance to leap onto his back and lock her arms around his neck. He stumbled unsteadily to his feet. His hands scrabbled at her arms, trying to loosen her hold. His helmet snapped back and caught her squarely in the nose. The loud crack and subsequent explosion of pain caused her to loosen her grip and fall to the ground. Suddenly he was on her, hands wrapped around her neck and squeezing hard. Blood was flowing freely from her now-broken nose. She fought, her nails searching for exposed flesh on the completely armored body. She wasn't getting enough air, her lungs were burning, black dots were dancing at the edges of her vision, her limbs were flailing uselessly. She was going to die.

The single high-pitched note of blaster discharge rang in her ears and a second later he was off her, cradling the side of his knee where the armor plates separated. Drawing in a deep breath, she kicked him onto his back and grabbed her wrench. She brought it down on his faceplate with all her strength once, twice, three times. Over and over again. The white armor buckled, the visor shattered and each time she brought the tool down, splatters of red painted the armor, the street, her clothes, her face. She did not stop her assault until she could no longer feel her arm. The body under her knees had long ago stopped struggling and simply lay there, taking the brunt of her fury.

She stopped after an immeasurable amount of time and simply stared at the two bodies, the result of her rage and horror. Tears began to fall, mingling with the blood on her face. A well of painful emotion swelled in her chest and erupted. She screamed. She screamed for Mishi's death, for the fate of her planet, for the fate of the Galaxy. She screamed, and screamed until there was no air left in her lungs. Then she stood, wrench still bloodied and in hand, and she lurched back down the street on shaking legs.


	5. Cathexis

_Cathexis  
(n.): The investment of emotional significance in an activity, object or idea._

* * *

He stepped off the lift and gimped towards the next lift that would take him to the upper levels. This morning he had woken feeling good. Maybe not a hundred percent, but it was better than he had felt in several weeks. He was looking forward to working with Voxx today. She had good stories and she had been able to teach him more about industrial-grade power couplings in a few weeks than he'd be able to learn in five years of flash-training on Kamino. They'd fallen into an easy cycle of productivity and conversation; he'd assist while she did the majority of the technical work. While their jobs were rather boring, he found it somewhat therapeutic. He was doing something for the benefit of his brothers and everyone else on the ship. He still meant something.

He approached the lift and saw it open. The engineering sector commander stepped out, Haskit, if he remembered correctly. The Bothan looked up from his datapad and saw him.

"Ah, there you are, trooper." He said pleasantly. He nodded respectfully to Voxx's commander. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost." He continued and indicated the open lift. "You're with me today."

"Yes, sir." He responded instinctively, and stepped into the lift. He was confused, but he wouldn't show such disrespect to the commander. More so he found himself wondering about Voxx. He knew that the engineering sector was a difficult place to work and that people died more often than they should, which was why most people left mechanic work on large starships to droids. He hoped she was alright.

"Voxx was called away for an inquiry early this morning, as part of the investigation. She will return before your shift tomorrow." The Bothan said as if he had read his thoughts. Ah, the investigation that had been dragging on for weeks. So they had finally decided to call her for the dreaded testimony. Haskit turned to look at him. "I'm sure you've heard."

"Yes sir." He suddenly felt rather silly for jumping to the worst possible scenario. It was very unlike him.

"Then I'm sure you've heard the rumors." It was a statement and not a question. It was a fact of life that rumors spread quickly among the tight-knit groups onboard the _Devastator_. He nodded his affirmation.

"Yes, sir."

"She's a good person, I think." Haskit sighed, bringing up a list on his 'pad with a few taps. "She just has a profoundly good sense about people and that tends to make her enemies. If she doesn't trust you, she has a reason, and you'll know it almost immediately."

"I see, sir." The lift stopped and the Bothan led the way to the bridge and the control panel that was in need of maintenance. He let his words about Voxx sink in. He wasn't very good with interpersonal relations, especially with non-clones, but he had never gotten the feeling of mistrust from the woman. He remembered the frustration that had practically dripped from her expression on the day they met, but that was almost certainly covering up the desperation of someone who had just lost their partner and did not want to replace them, especially with a man with a stilt for a leg. It gave him a peculiar feeling, the feeling of acceptance from someone who was not one of his brothers. It was a strange, alien feeling, but a good one.

The rest of his day was spent doing routine maintenance on the bridge with Haskit.

* * *

 **You know those stupid filler episodes of TV shows that only move the plot forward by a nanometer? Those episodes that kinda leave you feeling like "What the hell was even the point of that?" You know those right? Every show has them.**

 **This story does too. See you next week.**

 **It gets better, I promise.**


	6. Sodality

_Sodality  
(n.): Fellowship; comradeship_

* * *

He hobbled quickly along the lower-level corridor, checking the numbers of the branching halls. He couldn't remember exactly where he was supposed to be going, but he did have a general idea. The halls were dimly lit and he saw no personnel, reminding him exactly why the upper-level workers referred to the engineers as gremlins.

Finally he saw the sign for the engineering block and their quarters. He picked up the pace a little. He wanted to find out how the inquiry went before he was missed in the barracks. He found the door he'd been searching for. He reached out and hit the call button. A few moments passed before he heard footsteps from the other side. The door slid open and Haskit greeted him.

"Evening, trooper, what can I do for you?" he asked clearly confused to see him this far from the barracks this late in the day.

"Sorry, sir, I was only wondering if there was any word on the inquiry." Before the Bothan could answer him, he heard a cold chuckle from further inside the quarters.

"Yes, there's a word." Said Voxx's voice. Haskit stepped out of the way with a muttered invitation of entry and allowed him into the small apartment. "There's several words for it, in fact, and none of them are very nice." She was sitting on the small bunk in the darkened corner of the single room, which he noticed was rather sparse. The double bunk and a small desk and chair were the only furnishings. The desk and the wall were covered in flimsi leaflets of engines, power converters, and other assortments of heavy equipment. A half-empty bottle of clear liquid sat on the desktop. He looked back at Voxx. She held a small glass of the liquid in her hand as she slumped against the wall. When she looked at him, her eyes were red and glossed over but still sharp. She looked at him for a long moment, as if she were appraising him.

"What do you want, shiny boy?" she snarled raising the glass to her lips. He knew that tone. He'd heard it from his commanders when a mission hadn't gone as planned, and no matter how they tried it never went right. They'd come out of it feeling defeated, no matter how the engagement ended. Voxx certainly looked defeated from where he was standing.

"Voxx, I don't like your tone." Haskit growled a warning from behind him. He placed a tawny, clawed hand on his shoulder. "Trooper Jax just came to see how you were doing." Glassy grey eyes stared up at the two men. He felt suddenly that he was not wanted here. He shouldn't have come. You didn't walk in on a soldier winding down right after battle.

"Well now he's seen, he can go tell all his shiny friends." She said, polishing off the rest of the alcohol in her glass. She turned her gaze towards the desk and the technical diagrams that lay littered across the surface. He felt Haskit tug on his shoulder.

"Probably best to leave her be." He muttered so that only Jax could hear. He could only agree and allowed himself to be steered back towards the door. "I'm leaving now, Voxx." He called back to the woman. "I expect you to be functioning tomorrow." Voxx muttered something too incoherent for Jax to understand. The door opened and Haskit all but shoved him into the corridor.

"I'm sorry." He said, feeling himself leaning heavily on his cane. He should have known better than to bother her. Haskit patted him on the shoulder, a brief flash of annoyance crossed his face but was quickly wiped away.

"Don't worry yourself about it." He said. "Thank you for wanting to check on her. She hasn't had anyone else to see her since she returned." His tone was low and heavy. That was a shock to Jax, a soldier who lived his life by the men he worked beside. If he didn't have them, he would be nothing. They stood together in order to overcome. It was disconcerting to hear that the majority of the engineering sector didn't like Voxx enough to even check on her after an inquiry that could determine her whole future.

"Good evening, trooper." Haskit said.

"Sir." Jax nodded and watched him leave until he turned a corner. He made to return to the barracks, but something told him to stay. He knew that after a traumatic fight, some liked their space, but they always knew that their brothers were close by. Voxx had no one, both she and Haskit had told him as much. She had lost her partner and she'd made too many enemies for anyone to come to her aid in situations like this. He felt something like sympathy start a low ache in his chest. The least he could do was show her that she wasn't so alone.

He turned around and rang the call button on Voxx's door again.

* * *

"I still don't really know what you're doing here." She said, fixing the rather persistent soldier with a puzzled look. He had surprised her by returning. When she pulled out the bottle people would just leave her to her own. It was a sign she'd rather people just piss off and leave her be. But Jax had come back. The man was now occupying the desk seat, while she hunkered against the wall, sitting on her bunk with her legs crossed. He shrugged.

"I'm just here." He said simply. Everything about him was disturbingly simple. From the way he maintained his appearance to his likes and dislikes, everything was so simple. He was black and white. "I'm here to make sure you're okay." She scoffed into her glass.

"Okay. Look you're very kind, Jax, but I'm fine." She said. _'As fine as I'll ever be.'_ She added in her head. Jax nodded towards the glass in her hand.

"Normal people drink heavily when they're fine then?" he asked. Simple, but not stupid, she reminded herself, as she swallowed the bitter, tangy, slightly sweet alcohol and felt it burn a path down her throat. She swirled the remaining liquid around the glass, wishing that for once, just one moment, an answer would present itself. If there was truly one great Force guiding the Universe to its fate, it should be able to give her some sign that her choices were in the right.

"Some do." She said quietly. "How do you know I'm not one of them?"

"Five weeks of never seeing you touch anything stronger than water." It was a simple observation, but one she couldn't refute. They'd had plenty of meals together, she couldn't fault him for noticing her eating habits. He was a soldier, careful surveillance was practically written into his genome. She opted to say nothing and the small room descended into silence.

"Let me ask you something." She said after some time. He nodded. "You've lost fellow soldiers before, yes?"

"Yes. Too many."

"You've felt grief, anger, contempt, maybe some survivor's guilt?"

"All too often." He said, looking down at the floor, no doubt recalling said terrible feelings. She realized too late that maybe she was making him uncomfortable. But it was out now, too late to turn back.

"Today, I had to explain to a council of near total strangers why my partner, my _brother,_ died. I had to describe every detail of how my negligence caused my friend to wind up crushed at the bottom of a turbolift shaft." She became aware of her hands shaking and dug her nails into her palm. The memory was almost as painful as the actual inquiry. Seven weeks was a long time to normal people, but to those grieving it was the blink of an eye. Jax sat in the chair, lightly tapping the end of his cane on his rudimentary prosthesis. By his expression, he seemed to be thinking. For several moments, they just sat there, allowing silence to wash over them once again.

"It never stops does it?" she suddenly asked, still watching the liquid chase itself around her glass. It wasn't her speaking, not her as she was now, anyway. It was a younger Voxx looking for answers, wanting to know when she would stop hurting. She just wanted to stop feeling so weak, so vulnerable.

"Hasn't for me yet." She looked up at him and saw that his expression was far away. He wasn't in a small, cramped bunk room anymore, but somewhere reliving a moment of his life she wasn't privy to. His eyebrows knit together tightly. So it was a painful memory then. She found herself privately hoping that he wasn't putting himself through too much. Then, almost as if a switch had flipped in his mind, his attention returned to the present. He gave her a small half smile. "It helps to have someone else who knows what you're going through." He said. She returned his smile before she realized she was. He really wanted to help. He truly just wanted to help someone he saw as a comrade overcome a difficult loss.

' _You are not his comrade. You are way off base,'_ a small voice from the dark corner of her mind told her. She did her best to bury the thought, but it was too late. She was off base here. Her smile dissolved and she averted her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at him.

"Thank you." She said, ice creeping into her voice. "But I think you have somewhere else you need to be." If this bothered Jax, he gave no indication. She heard him simply shrug but remain seated.

The next thing she knew, she was being jolted awake by the alarm on her wall chrono. Blearily she hauled herself out of the bed and stumbled the few steps to the desk to shut the alarm off. She went through her morning routine only half awake and half sober at best. She was about to dress herself in her regulation yellow tunic and pants, when she spotted something out of place. A small sheet of flimsi was on her desk that she hadn't put there. She approached the desk and saw that someone had scrawled her a note. Haskit, her mind immediately said, but as she read it, it was very clear who had written the note. She read it, re-read it, put it down, got dressed, and re-read it again. She retrieved her tool belt, and took a last look at the note. A small smile turned the corners of her mouth upward.

Off base indeed.

 _Mid-level comm center; 05:30 for daily briefing. Then food. You talk in your sleep, by the way._

* * *

 **Sorry I'm a bit late. Life happened, here's the chapter. Next chapter should be out on time. It's exciting because next chapter we start the first BIG plot arc. Meanwhile, enjoy.**


	7. Horripilation

_Horripilation  
(n.): Raising of hairs on skin in response to fear or cold_

* * *

"Hand me that backwash shield." She said from beneath the GAT-12 that she was trying to replace a leaky coolant valve for. He handed her the implement and returned his attention back to the filter he was attempting to clean. There were none left either on the Blastboat or in the stock rooms below, so he was doing his best to clean it out so it would last until they got another shipment in. Voxx was humming an unfamiliar tune to herself as she worked. They weren't really talking today as they were both consumed in their tasks. It had been over a month since her inquiry and he thought he could see some improvements in her moods. Though since he hadn't known her before the accident, he really wasn't certain what classified as "normal" for her.

"You done with that filter yet?" she asked over the other loud noises in the hangar. He was just about to ask her if she needed it, as he was done cleaning it to the best of his ability.

"As good as it's going to get." He said handing it to her as she pushed herself out from under the assault ship to inspect it. It was deemed worthy.

"Definitely better than it was." She said. He felt a little pride sneak into his expression. Voxx pushed herself back under the ship only to pop back out when her commlink blipped.

"Voxx, go ahead." She stated flatly. He smirked as he began packing up the tools they had been using, making sure he placed them all in the exact right spot.

"Need you at the reactor." Came the curt reply of someone whose voice he didn't recognize. She must have been acquainted with them because she gave an equally terse reply.

"In the hangar, five minutes." And she replaced the commlink on her belt. She looked up at him with an apologetic expression and handed the filter back. "Think you can put this back?" she asked. He nodded, certain he could handle that small task; she had shown him how to remove the filter so he would simply work backwards. She stood and he replaced her on the repulsor-powered creeper.

"I shouldn't be too long. If you get done before I'm back, go grab a bite to eat and I'll meet you in the mess."

"I'll see you there." He said, pushing himself up under the assault ship.

The replacing of the filter took almost no time at all. Once he was finished, he replaced the outer panel and made sure that it was sealed. He was cleaning and placing the last of the tools in their places and found himself humming the same tune that he'd heard from Voxx just a half an hour earlier. He closed up the box and moved the creeper back to where it belonged. He was wandering in the direction of the mess with the toolbox in tow when the dual-tone blip sounded over the broadcast system, signaling a ship-wide transmission.

"All non-essential personnel proceed to the hangar in an orderly fashion. Repeat, all non-essential personnel to the hangar." His mind leapt to the numerous drills they had run over and over until they were almost second nature. His mind said evacuation. But why were they evacuating?

"All off-duty troopers proceed to the hangar in an orderly fashion." Came the announcement. Second wave, he told himself. Next would be all troopers on duty, then essential personnel, then officers, then whoever was left. This was a large-scale evacuation, they were abandoning ship.

His heart began hammering, pumping adrenalin into his system. He was technically an off-duty trooper, but he was also considered a member of the engineering sector. He wasn't sure where he was supposed to go, so he made his way out of the hangar to where he knew he would get some orders.

* * *

She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as a shiver ran up her spine. It seemed that during all of the hyperspace jumps they had done over the last few months and the strain of traveling at light speed had taken its toll on the Devastator. The superstructure of the ion reactor at the very center of the ship had sustained a six meter-long crack and was leaking a slew of radiation and toxic, not to mention highly volatile, aerated chemicals. The problem with these Star Destroyers was the proximity the ion reactors had with the massive engines and the hyperdrive. The resulting explosion would likely be visible from Coruscant. She chewed on her bottom lip and looked up at Haskit. He looked down at her.

"The most we can do is patch it up and limp her to the nearest shipyard." He said. She nodded.

"But to work on her we'd need to shut her down and hope to the Force she doesn't blow when we try and power her up again." She replied. "I don't think there are enough of those zero-grav armor sets for the entire crew." Haskit grumbled his agreement.

"The higher-ups won't like it, but I think it's safe to say we need to call the bridge and get an evac started. That way, if it turns out to be nothing, they'll just call everyone back. No harm done."

"But if worse comes to worse," said another engineer from behind Haskit, a grim look settled onto his pale face. "They'll be out of the blast zone." He said and exhaled heavily from his mouth. "No big deal." Haskit harrumphed at the man and brought his commlink up to his mouth.

"Engineering to Bridge." He said flatly, not wanting to cause a panic immediately.

"Go ahead, engineering."

"We've discovered the ion reactor has been damaged. We'd like to recommend a full evacuation so we can shut the _Devastator_ down to work on fixing the issue." For a moment, there was a profound kind of silence from the bridge. It wasn't a call anyone looked forward to making.

"Acknowledged, engineering. We'll implement a ship-wide evacuation immediately and broadcast a signal for immediate assistance. What should we expect to result from this?"

"Bridge, I think it's safe to say that we can expect the worst." Haskit stated, no emotion present in his voice. "Total loss." Voxx swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to take a calming breath. It just came out in a shaky rattle. "With your permission, Bridge, I'll come up there with some of my staff and we can keep the ship in a neutral orientation while you evacuate."

"Permission granted. We'll begin the evacuation orders."

"Confirmed, bridge. Out." And Haskit turned to the rest of the engineers, replacing the commlink on his belt. "Alright, I need two of you to come with me. Between three of us, we should be able to give the ship enough time to evacuate before we have to shut power down." Two members raised their hands, and Haskit nodded and looked at Voxx. "You have the repair team." She took a deep breath and hoped she sounded stronger than she really felt.

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

 **Hey guys, I hope you're all enjoying the story so far. I realize that we haven't gotten into too much plot as of yet but that's about to change. Let me know what you guys think. Give that review button some love and give me your criticisms, praise, flames, or whatever you want. Happy Thanksgiving and be safe traveling!**


	8. Inutile

_Inutile  
(adj.): Of no use or service_

* * *

He was going as fast as he could, but that didn't have the same meaning as when he had two cooperating legs. Now his top speed was less than half what he was originally capable. Add that to the amount of personnel choking the corridors. He wasn't getting anywhere fast. He kept trying to raise Voxx on the commlink but she either couldn't hear or wasn't in a position to answer. He found himself hoping it was the former. He wasn't even halfway to the reactor yet and he was getting antsy. His heart was pounding and adrenalin was pumping through his veins, but it was of little use when he was using a cane and toting a heavy case through corridors flooded with panicked Navy personnel.

"Lieutenant!" someone called out to him from the crowd of people. He turned and saw a knot of 501st troopers ushering personnel through the corridor. One waved at him, he returned the gesture and fought his way over to them.

"Captain," he greeted. "What's going on?"

"We thought you might know." Answered his superior. "Being an honorary member of the Gremlin squad and all." For some reason, the use of the moniker for the engineers irritated him, but he set that irritation aside for now and listened to his brothers.

"Bridge has called for a full evac per engineering." Jax felt his stomach plummet. The call that Voxx had received earlier had something to do with it.

"I have to get to the reactor." He said. The toolbox felt heavy in his grip. If Voxx needed it, then he had to get it to her. A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Hold on," said another trooper who didn't sound like a clone. "You're off duty, you should already be on a shuttle." He shook that hand off and held up the box that held Voxx's tools.

"I have to get this to the reactor, then I'll leave." He said, determined. The trooper that he had addressed as Captain shook his head. "With respect, Ado, if you even try to tell me-"

"Jax," Ado said sternly, holding a hand up. Jax had never gotten angry with a commanding officer before, but now he could feel his ire rising at his captain for not allowing him to do what had to be done, but then Ado held out a hand in the direction of the box.

"I'll do it." He said. "I'll take the _shabla_ toolbox to your girlfriend." He must have looked shocked enough for Ado to think he needed to elaborate. "If it means that much to you, it has to be important. I'll make better time than you anyway." He finished. That last comment stung, but he didn't have the time right now to be offended. Mission first, as always. Reluctantly, Jax handed him the toolbox.

"Thank you, Ado."

"Private," Ado said, ignoring the thanks entirely. "Get Lieutenant Jax onto a shuttle and make sure he stays there." The non-clone trooper saluted,

"Yes sir." Ado took off down the corridor full tilt with the toolbox, shouting for everyone to get out of his way. Jax had to admit that he'd never felt more useless in his short life.

* * *

 **Another short one, but don't fret because the premier of Star Wars: The Force Awakens is only two weeks away! Woohoo!**

 **On a more serious note, please consider leaving a review. I can't improve myself as a writer if I don't know what needs work. I'd like to get better, but I need you guys' help to do that. I'll go ahead and say thanks and leave it at that. Hope you enjoy this chapter, short as it might be.**


	9. Tenebrific

_Tenebrific_

 _(adj.): Producing darkness_

* * *

 _Black zero, black zero, black zero. Imperial I-Class Star Destroyer_ Devastator _requesting immediate assistance. Ship evacuated due to reactor damage, dead in orbit over Onderon. Crew and other personnel evacuated. Be advised, be advised, unconfirmed reports of volatile toxins onboard. Proceed with caution. Do not attempt hyperspace jump in immediate vicinity. Approximately ten crew still remaining onboard in attempt to stabilize damage. Repeat, ten members of_ Devastator _crew still onboard vessel. Zero life support available onboard. Broadcasting on all Imperial frequencies. Black zero, black zero, black zero._

* * *

She sighed, her breath fogged up the visor of her helmet for a moment before dissipating. It was colder than she remembered, though she was certain that it was colder outside than it was in the room with a machine that could produce the energy equivalent to a medium-sized sun. She grit her teeth and continued working, praying that the atmosphere filter was working properly. Radiation sickness didn't really appeal to her. Around her, five other yellow and black suits floated around in the zero gravity, assessing for further damage. In her HUD, she could see what they saw through the eyes of each member's video feed. Five other spotlamp beams cut through the otherwise pitch-blackness of the main reactor core, searching. The suits weren't exactly up to Commando specs, but they did their job, which was keeping the engineers alive during space walks and keeping them in contact.

She found herself thinking back to Jax and the relief she had felt when his captain, Ado, had returned her tools to her, stating that he had been evacuated safely. It calmed her and allowed her to work without extra worry weighing on her shoulders.

'But you are worried.' Said the small voice in her head. 'You're worried that you're getting attached.' She shook her head, hoping that would discourage that one section of her brain from interfering with her current task. Cold welding wasn't exactly as straight-forward a chore as its superheating counterpart. She had to keep her head in the here and now. So she focused.

"So, how long does the life support in these suits last?" came a voice over the comm.

"Probably best not to think about it, Kaul." Haskit instructed from his post at the bridge. "We have a plan, and we'll stick to it like a Nemoidian leech. First person in the red speaks up and we're bugging out in the direction of the escape pods." A chorus of various affirmatives sounded from the rest of the crew. Voxx checked the oxygen indicator in her HUD. Still in the green. She continued working.

Every time she thought about Jax, she would bite down on her tongue to help stomp it down and keep her mind on her work. She did the same with the snide voice that seemed to taunt her each time his face appeared in her mind.

"Breathe, Voxx." Haskit said over the comm. "Your heart rate is too high. Conserve your oh-two." She looked quickly at her indicator and saw that she was indeed on the margin between green and yellow.

"Copy that." She said. She began inhaling in short bursts through her nose and drawing out her exhales. She could feel her heart calm down and returned her focus to the crack she was cold welding shut. She didn't have much more to do.

"Heads up!" came an urgent voice over the commlink. She looked up just in time to see Kaul hurtling towards her, unable to stop in the zero gravity. She couldn't move, so she braced for impact. He hit her, knocking her sideways. The magnetic anchors on her harness held fast and she came to a halt almost immediately. Without thinking, she reached a hand out and caught Kaul by his arm. Better he remain stationary than hit someone else in this environment.

"Thanks." He breathed, taking a hold of a small control panel and magnetizing one of his anchors. Voxx let his arm go.

"Don't mention it." She said, just grateful that nothing more serious had happened.

"Oh…Voxx…"

"I said don't mention it, Kaul." She said more sternly. She had work to do and limited time to do it.

"No, Voxx, your suit…" She snapped her attention back to Kaul, then to his point-of-view cam. Her blood ran cold.

"Oh, _fekk_." A large tear had opened up in the tough, rubber-like fabric right below her breastplate on her right side. She looked away from the feed and back at Kaul. His face was pale and his eyes were wide. She knew he was seeing the same fearful expression mirrored on her face. She could smell ozone.

"Voxx, I'm so sorry."

"What's going on down there?" Haskit demanded.

"Voxx's suit has been breached." Kaul said, his voice quaking. "I repeat, we have an exosuit breach!"

"Drop what you're doing and get to the escape pods! Everyone, that's an order!" Haskit yelled. Cold dread pooled in Voxx's gut, and she found herself wondering if it was actually dread or the radiation attacking her body. Instead of moving as she was told, she turned back to look at the progress of the welding job. She was almost done. She had to finish it.

"Come on!" Kaul yelled at her. Everyone was making a beeline for the escape pods. No, she told herself, see it through; you're almost there. Her vision was starting to distort. It was becoming a chore to breathe.

"Voxx!"

* * *

 _Copy that, Devastator. Victory-Class Battlecruiser Ravager responding to Black zero. Standing by for possible elevation to Red zero status. ETA fourteen minutes. Hang in there, Devastator. Over._


	10. Coterie

_Coterie  
(n.): A group of people who associate closely_

* * *

Try as hard as he might, he could not hide his worry. His fellow troopers were trying to keep his mind on other things, like how good a few days leave would be after this mess, but it did nothing to alleviate the burden on his mind. They had received help in the form of the Battlecruiser _Ravager_ and they were in the process of cataloguing the shuttles and the crewmembers onboard and then allowing them to land on the planet below. He should have been content with the knowledge that his brothers were safe and they would all live to fight another day. But he was not at all content. He was restless and anxious.

"Lieutenant Jax?" asked the private that had escorted him to the shuttle. His name was Jarrin if he was remembering right. He vaguely remembered giving the boy, along with the rest of his squad a tour of the _Devastator_ when they had first arrived fresh from the Academy. He looked up at the boy, who was more like a man.

"Yes, Private?"

"Any ideas about what you're going to do during leave?" Jarrin asked. Jax let a small smirk crack the hard exterior of his expression. He was trying and Jax was grateful for that. It didn't help in the slightest, but he was grateful nonetheless. He opened his mouth to say something noncommittal but was interrupted by an insistent buzzer emanating from the cockpit.

" _Commander Haskit to any vessel in the area! Requesting immediate medical evac, radiation isolation protocol in effect! Repeat radiation isolation protocol must be in effect! One confirmed contamination. Status critical. Escape pod one-one-two-four-six."_ Jax's heart leapt into his throat. They were off the ship, but far from out of danger. He found himself repeating _'please don't be her, please don't be her,'_ over and over in his head. He strained to hear the comm in the cockpit.

" _Copy that, Commander, this is_ Ravager _, sending a medevac team to your location. Full isolation protocol has been put into effect. Remain where you are and remain calm. Is critical individual alert and responsive?"_

" _Negative, individual is unconscious and unresponsive, but breathing. Wait—belay that,_ Ravager _. Individual is not breathing. Repeat, critical individual is no longer breathing!"_ Jax felt a hand on his shoulder and he flinched. At some point, Jarrin had gotten up from his seat and swapped with another trooper beside Jax. He forced himself to relax and wrestled his expression into an acceptably

"I'm sure she's alright, Lieutenant." He said, with a convincing amount of certainty. Jax felt a small fraction of the tension in his shoulders ease. Jarrin may have been a poor shot with a blaster, and a marginal soldier at best, but he was a good man.

"Thank you, Private." He strained again to hear any other chatter from or about the engineers, but the pilots were in the middle of negotiating the shuttle landing and giving names of crew onboard. So, he returned his attention to Jarrin and asked him about his plans for leave. All the while aware of an awful pit in his gut that told him something was not good. Coupled with the continuous feeling of helplessness, he was starting to feel rather nauseous.

* * *

 **Hello patient readers! So between being out of state, work, a huge birthday bash, and the new Star Wars premier I feel extremely accomplished to still be sitting upright, never mind uploading the tenth chapter of this story! Woohoo! We're in the double digits now!**

 **For those who are even the slightest bit inclined to go see the new Star Wars movie, all I can say, while maintaining my vow of confidentiality, is go. See it. It is amazing. JJ knocked it out of the park. That's it, I'm done.**

 **I can't guarantee an on-time upload next week with it being Christmas time in my household. And since I am the designated baker, I will be baking up lots of delicious goodies and that takes up precious free time. What I can guarantee, is that if I don't upload a new chapter next week, you will get two chapters the week of New Year's. Sound fair?**

 **I'll end this nasty-long author's note by simply saying; Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, Happy Holidays all over the world. I've been a part of this community for well over eleven years and consider this community to be family. Therefore I love you all and hope that your holidays are filled with happiness and your New Year is filled with hope.**


	11. Contradistinction

_Contradistinction  
(n.): Distinction by contrast or opposition_

* * *

 _Torbald Mavik, Captain, Victory-Class Battlecruiser_ Ravager _transmitting to Fleet. Reporting successful intercept of_ Devastator _crew and clearing of Black zero. Repeat,_ Devastator _Black zero has been cleared. Engineering reports main damage to ship's reactor has been stabilized and immediate danger has passed. One crewmember still in critical condition._ Devastator _crew given one standard week's leave while repairs are made. Arrangements have been made for ship to be towed to the surface of Onderon at 02:00 hours to await Kuat repair team. Over._

 _Copy that,_ Ravager, _awaiting official report and damage assessment to be completed at your earliest convenience. Standing by for notification of next-of-kin for critical crewmember. Over._

 _Negative, Fleet, engineer Voxx, Miraan A. negative next-of-kin. Standby unnecessary. Over._

 _Copy,_ Ravager. _Over_.

* * *

Two days. Two days since the reactor incident and still no word. He'd heard the rumors, of course, you couldn't escape them. The word buzzing around the garrison was that Voxx had disobeyed orders and in an attempt to get her to comply, her exosuit was damaged and she had been exposed to the radiation of the reactor. He'd quickly gown tired of the gossip and if the subject arose, he would leave and wander around the base, taking in the fresh air of Onderon. It had been a while since he'd set foot on terra firma anywhere in the galaxy and he wanted to take in as much as he could before the week was up and they would be shot off into space again.

Now, though, he was reclining on his bunk, flipping idly through a Coruscanti holozine. He was so amazingly bored that the flat articles on how to properly introduce oneself to a Zabrak of the opposite sex were providing more entertainment than they should have. He set the holozine down and just stared up at the bottom of the bunk above him. He hated this. He hated feeling so useless that he was relegated to the barracks to do mundane tasks. He hated not being able to help Voxx, he hated not knowing what was happening to her, and he hated that he had not been there. Maybe if he had been with her, he could have helped. Maybe if he hadn't lost his _shabla_ leg…

He stopped his train of thought. If he had never lost his leg, he would never have been relegated to engineering and Voxx would have been alone, well and truly alone. Suddenly he felt very selfish. He raised his head and peered down at his stilt of a leg. Would he take it back? If he were able to, would he change the events of that day and keep his leg, knowing that he would never have met the woman who had somehow allowed him to see past his loss? He exhaled, a long, slow, thoughtful breath. He knew the answer, but admitting to it almost felt like a betrayal to the brothers he had lost that day. He couldn't give them up so easily, could he? He shook his head to dislodge the thought. He was here, as he was, and there was no point in wishing away the past. It would do no good.

The door to the barracks hissed open and Jax looked up to see Ado, still in full armor. Ever the Captain that he was, Ado never liked to be without his armor, stating that if you ever left the base wearing less than what you wear into battle, you are improperly dressed.

"Hey," he said, removing his helmet and striding over to Jax's bunk. He sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed.

"Captain?" he asked, noting that Ado looked a little drawn. He knew that some troopers had elected to roam off base and partake in the local nightlife, but he couldn't remember Ado ever taking to that sort of pastime.

"I was just at the medical garrison." He said, taking a seat across from Jax, who had perked up at the mention of the medcenter. A hundred and one questions flew through his mind at once, but seemed to bottleneck at his throat. Ado, to his credit, could read Jax's mind fairly well so he continued when his comrade didn't say anything.

"First off, she's alive and she's stabilized." He said. Jax could feel the tension slowly ebb from his muscles. "Commander Haskit told me to apologize to you on his behalf. He wanted to contact you to keep you up to date, but everything the engineers had on them during the repairs was seized and incinerated, including their commlinks." Jax nodded, it was understandable. Anything that could potentially be contaminated had to be disposed of at the discretion of the responding medical team. It was a common enough protocol.

"When can I see her?" he blurted. Ado smiled at him.

"She isn't awake yet, they've had to keep her under to slow any damage from the radiation. But you can see her as soon as you're ready." he said. Jax placed the holozine at the foot of his bunk and grabbed his makeshift cane.

"I've been ready." He said, firmly. He stood and Ado did the same. He thought he heard the Captain chuckle.

"So I see." He said as he followed his brother out of the barracks.

* * *

She was floating. Somehow or another she was floating. Everything around her was pure, velvet, liquid darkness, so complete that she was certain she wouldn't see anything if she opened her eyes. She opened them anyway. So she hadn't been floating after all. She was, in fact, standing upright in the middle of a wide field. A soft breeze bent to stalks of the bright emerald grass into blue-green ripples. She closed her eyes again and smiled. It was very peaceful here, she thought to herself as she tried to recall where 'here' exactly was. She could feel the sun shining, warming her skin, and the breeze as it blew through her hair. She took a deep breath and her eyes snapped open. Something was off.

She looked around, eyes sharp and focused, trying to pinpoint the source of her unease. The grass rippled to and fro and the clouds moved languidly overhead, blocking out the sun briefly. That's when she understood.

There was no sound. She could not hear the breeze blowing, nor the sounds of any animal life. She exhaled as loudly as she could and her hands flew to her mouth. She couldn't hear herself. She tried speaking. Her lips moved and she felt her vocal cords vibrate, but no sound came from her mouth. She tried again, not believing it could be real. Nothing. She tried again and again no words came from her lips. She screamed. Silence answered her.


	12. Ballast

_Ballast  
(n.): __Anything_ _that_ _gives_ _mental,_ _moral,_ _or_ _political_ _stability_ _or_ _steadiness_

* * *

"Medic!" he yelled over his shoulder, while trying to control the thrashing body on the gurney. Her eyes were wide open and afraid. "Medic!" She didn't know where she was or what was happening. The medcenter was a hard enough place to wake up without the heavy dose of drugs the medical droids had administered and the intubation tube running down her throat. Her breathing was rapid and shallow and her heart was hammering out a rhythm that would give a fully grown gundark chest pain. She was fighting the tube and she would hurt herself doing so. He took her thrashing head in his hands and looked her dead in the eye. Her hands locked onto his wrists with a grip that would have made his hand-to-hand combat instructor proud.

"Voxx, look at me. It's okay. Look right at me. Miraan, you are okay. You're in the medcenter on Onderon and you are safe, but you need to calm down. Blink once if you understand me." Her wide, bloodshot eyes peered up at him for a heartbeat and then she blinked. She was calming down but still shaking. Her panicked gaze never left his.

"Very good. Do you want the tube to come out? Once for yes." She blinked once. A medical droid came over and instructed him to move his hands. He did so, but she never released her grip on his wrists. "Okay, Voxx, exhale on one. Blink one if you understand." She blinked. "Three, two, one." The droid pulled the airway tube from the woman's throat. Once it was freed, the resulting coughing fit was enough to cause a bout of dry heaving that lasted about a minute. He waited patiently, keeping one hand on her shoulder to keep her steady. Finally, she leaned back on the gurney and looked up at him. She was still shaking but otherwise calm, and she was alive, which was the important thing.

"What happened?" she asked roughly. He had to smile.

"Well apparently someone was doing her job a little too well." He said, a bit of laughter coloring his voice. He couldn't tell if it was from real amusement or relief, but right now he didn't really care. "You disobeyed orders when your suit was compromised. You should have been the first one out." She rolled her eyes and let the barest hint of a smile curl her mouth upwards.

"I was kind of talking about the ship. How's the _Devastator_?" she asked and this time he rolled his eyes.

"The ship's fine. She's getting some repairs as we speak." She nodded slowly, laying her head back on the cushion. "How are you, though?" He asked. She looked at him with her bloodshot grey eyes and cocked an eyebrow.

"I feel like I was kicked in the head and tossed around by an angry wampa." She said, putting a hand to her forehead and staring up at the ceiling.

"You look like it." He said before he realized what he was saying. Her head snapped around and her eyes locked onto his. For a moment he wondered if he had offended her. The two stared at each other for a long moment. The silence held until both broke out into loud laughter. It was almost therapeutic, a release of the tension built up over the last few days by laughter. The fit lasted almost a whole minute, long enough for the duo to start getting strange looks from the non-droid medical staff. The tension had broken, and once their hilarity had subsided, the pair fell back into their usual easy conversation.

It was almost two hours later that the medical droid came by and administered some medication that would supposedly help Voxx sleep. She smiled blearily up at him as the drugs did their work.

"Thank you, Jax." She said, reaching out and taking his hand. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"For what?" he asked a moment later, but she had already fallen asleep. Her grip on his hand loosened, but he wasn't about to let go. "Never mind, you're welcome."

* * *

She woke up easier this time, now that she knew where she was and didn't have an artificial airway doing her breathing for her, she was able to ease out of sleep. She opened her eyes slowly, allowing them to get used to the white fluorescence of the medcenter, before she opened them completely. She stretched each of her limbs in turn, feeling the stiffness ebbing slowly from them. She then sighed back into the gurney fully content with the idea of going back to sleep.

"Ah, she lives." Said a voice on her left beside her head. She turned her head and saw a stormtrooper, an old clone like Jax, but it wasn't Jax. As far as she could see, he had all of his limbs. He was dressed in full armor and had the pauldron of a Captain. He was reading something off a datapad, his face set in a look of hard concentration. She looked a little harder and realized that she recognized him.

"You brought me my tools." He looked up at her and nodded.

"Captain Ado." He said holding out his hand. She reached out and grasped it. Had her arm always been this pale? "Pleasure to officially meet you."

"Sergeant Miraan Voxx. Good to meet you, Captain." She looked around the immediate area and saw no sign of her partner. All she saw were empty gurneys and gray medical droids. Ado returned his attention to the 'pad.

"Jax is back at the barracks. I relieved him about three hours ago." He said, apparently reading her mind. So he had stayed. The thought made her roll her eyes, but brought a smile to her face nonetheless. "He hasn't been getting any real sleep since the incident, so I told him to get a few solid hours. He needed it."

"I'm glad you did, Captain." She said, honestly. "Sometimes he just can't stand to leave anyone behind." Ado set the 'pad on the empty metal tray beside the gurney and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"It's how he was trained," He said seriously. "It's how we were all trained." He looked at her, his eyes so much like Jax's that it was almost unnerving. "I hope you understand that." She nodded.

"I think I understand better now."

"Good, because I'm going to level with you Sergeant," his tone was low. He looked over his shoulder as if to make certain no one was listening in on the conversation. He turned back to her, his face stern. "I have never seen him like this." She wasn't entirely certain what _this_ was supposed to mean but she opted to keep her mouth shut as she felt Ado wanted to continue.

"He's always been a little on the distant side. Always kept his mind focused on the situation at hand, regardless of how he felt. During the mission when he lost his leg, he lost his entire squad. That's hard enough on its own, but he lost a part of himself as well. He wasn't a whole person and no one knew how to treat him as anything but an incomplete soldier. There's nothing worse for us. We could barely get him to come to the mess so he could eat, and I know he didn't sleep. He tried to brush it off but we all knew he was slipping. I was certain we were going to wake up one morning and find him…gone." Voxx felt her heart constrict. She remembered meeting him. He'd been resigned to say the least. "Then he was assigned to you, and we saw a difference within a week. He had his life back. I don't know what you did and I don't care, I just want you to know that I'm grateful to have him back." She inclined her head just a bit.

"Thank you, Captain." She said, her mind heavy with the information she'd just been given. "That's… well it's good to know. He's a good man." He nodded.

"I have very few brothers that are still alive, Sarge, I'm just trying to look out for the ones that are left. If you make him happy, then make him happy as long as you're able. Force knows we won't be around much longer."

"Is that why you're here?" She asked, vaguely indicating the medbay. He nodded once.

"What is important to my men is important to me. You happen to be important to Jax, therefore you are important to me." He said matter-of-factly. She opened her mouth to say something else when the door to the medbay opened. Two men in gray uniforms and the regalia of Commanders strode into the bay, escorted by Haskit. Ado leapt to his feet and saluted. The men were coming closer. She turned and tugged on Ado's arm as she sat up straighter and swung her legs over the side of the gurney. Her vision swam.

"Help me stand, Captain." He looked down at her quizzically.

"Are you sure? I don't think they-"

"Ado, help me stand." She cut him off, an edge creeping into her voice. He stared at her for another moment before taking her upper arm and hauling her up onto her shaking legs. Her vision blurred briefly and she swayed. Ado took her opposite shoulder and kept her steady. She stood at her best attention and saluted the three men as they approached. They paused, saluted and instructed both her and Ado to remain at ease.

"Captain, Commander, Sergeant Miraan Voxx." Haskit introduced. "Sergeant Voxx, Captain Torbald Mavik of the _Ravager_ and Commander Jir of the _Devastator_." Both Captain and Commander bowed ever so slightly at the waist towards her, she returned the gesture still being supported by Ado.

"Please, Sergeant, take your rest." Jir said, indicating the gurney. "We have no intention of disrupting your medical care." Voxx nodded.

"Thank you, sir." She said, allowing Ado to lower her back onto the gurney.

"As we understand it, Sergeant, you are to be commended." Mavik continued. "It was very brave of you to complete as much of the repair as you did, even after your suit was compromised. The Kuati repair team have given you their complements. "

"I don't like to leave a job unfinished, Sir."

"So we hear. Your Commander stated already that you always follow through on every job, no exceptions. That is a trait to be admired and cultivated within our ranks."

"Just doing the duty that was given to me, Sir."

"Sergeant," Jir stated firmly. "We, in accordance with his Imperial Majesty and the Imperial Navy, would like to extend to you the rank of Lieutenant and a position on one of our newest Super Star Destroyers."

* * *

 _This is Imperial I-Class Star Destroyer_ Devastator _reporting in, ready to receive orders. All crew aboard and accounted for. Systems nominal and prepped for extended space travel. Preparing for exit of atmosphere. Thank you for your hospitality, Onderon. Over._

 _Copy that,_ Devastator _, orders on standby until confirmation of pre-voyage screening is received. Over._

 _Good copy, Fleet. Over and out._

* * *

 **I told you I'd upload two chapters this week didn't I? Never said I'd get them out on Wednesday. But they're up now so put out those torches and put the pitchforks back in the barn. Thanks.**

 **I sincerely hope everyone had a safe and happy New Years celebration and that you all made resolutions that you can keep. Enjoy these two chapters and I'll see you with the regularly scheduled single chapter upload next week. And please consider leaving a review. It would make me happy.**


	13. Menage

_Ménage  
(n):_ _A domestic establishment; household._

* * *

The luxurious dining room positively glittered in the setting sun that filtered through the enormous bay windows. Everything from the gilded chandelier to the clawed, silver feet of the six high-backed chairs simply shone in the warm, golden light. It gave the room a soft, warm feeling, despite the frigid dispositions of those seated at the long table. One chair was noticeably vacant. He found the more he tried not to notice it, the more aware he became of its emptiness. The seat directly across from him, though, was distinctly occupied. He did everything he could to avoid the icy stare that he felt focused on him. He focused more on his food for a moment, then turned his attention to his right hand side to speak quietly to his son about the usual trivialities that typically arose during family meals.

This worked, for the most part for maybe half an hour into the meal itself. Then he heard the delicate clearing of a throat that could only belong to his wife across the table. He braced himself and then looked up to meet her hard, green-eyed stare.

"Dearest," she began slowly. She only reserved that title for when she was extremely irritated with him. Her perfectly groomed eyebrows arched over her eyes in a show of profound annoyance and her usually soft, pink lips were pursed into a thin, white line below her nose. "Where is she?" she asked, nodding towards the empty chair to his left. He looked at the vacant, blue velveteen seat and slowly- if only to irritate his wife that much more- finished chewing his mouthful of roasted nuna.

"I don't know, My Love." he said. At least he could be honest about that. He didn't know where she was. He made to take another bite of his spiced tubers before she interrupted him again.

"You reminded her that dinner was going to be early tonight?" she huffed out through her tightly pursed lips. He still found it a marvel that she could form coherent sentences while her mouth was almost completely closed. He might have laughed, had she not been staring at him with the intent to burn holes through his skull.

"I did." he said, his voice low. "Then she told me she would be getting a ride from some friends from the yard." His wife set a shimmersilk-clad elbow on the table and held her head with her thumb, fore, and middle fingers resting against her temple. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at how dramatic she was becoming. Her time in Parliament had not softened her desire to make a scene whenever possible.

"I can't believe that you are actually encouraging her to work in a shipyard." she said, her voice strained as if simply thinking about it had brought her to the end of her rope. "It's not a fit place for her." This time he did roll his eyes. So it was going to be an argument then.

"I can't believe this is still a topic for discussion." He said, setting his utensil down and placing his hands in his lap. "Why can't you accept the fact that she's found what she's good at and is pursuing it?" If his wife pursed her lips together any more, he was certain that her mouth would have disappeared entirely. Come to think of it, that would be the best possible outcome of the evening.

"Because," she said, doing her impression of a ventriloquist act again. "She is a part of this family and her choices reflect upon all of us." He felt his hand clench around his napkin. "She is a lady."

"She's an engineer." he snarled. "She is a damn good engineer and she wants to get better. I would rather her learn to work in a shipyard that I help run than have her gallivanting off to be some field technician in a warzone somewhere." He never used this tone with any of his family. It was reserved for only the most grievous of mishaps made by his employees. The last time he used it a fuel cell rupture had rendered an entire third of the yard unapproachable for four months. He never thought he would have to use this tone with his own wife in defense of their daughter. He inhaled deeply, calming himself down before he spoke again. "If our reputations become tarnished because our daughter pursues an honest job in a field that desperately needs more competent workers, then let them be tarnished. I am standing by her decision."

"Here here!" came his son's voice. He looked at the dark-haired young man beside him and shot him a smile.

"Here here!" exclaimed his oldest daughter, still wearing her senatorial robes. She gave him a polite nod of her head and raised her glass of golden nectarwine. "To honest work." she toasted. His grin grew wider as he reached for his glass as well. He saw his son do the same. Even his youngest daughter lifted up her small water cup with both hands and gave a resounding,

"Here!" and she giggled, her dark curls bouncing off her shoulders.

"I apologize, Delegate Karthas, but it seems that Mister Voxx has won this debate. Do you concede the floor?" His oldest daughter stated more than asked in her calm, senator's voice. In response, his wife simply huffed and crossed her arms regally over her chest, careful not to wrinkle the shimmersilk.

The sound of a heavy door closing caught the attention of his youngest daughter first. As if her chair were concealing a spring-loaded platform, she bounced out of her seat and bounded to the top of the staircase.

"Raanie's home! Raanie's home!" she exclaimed, delightedly clapping her hands together. Rapid footfalls echoed up the stairs and a split second later loud squeals rang through the house.

"Sorry I'm late!" he looked up to see his next to youngest child standing in the doorway, his youngest seated comfortably upon her shoulders. She was smiling brightly and her face was flushed and covered in dark smudges. "My supervisor had me fill in for one of the welders who had to leave early. His wife is having their first child." she explained as she set her little sister back in her seat and proceeded to greet the rest of her family.

"How did that go?" he asked her once he had received his obligatory embrace. The smell of oil, fuel, and heated metal briefly stung his nostrils. She beamed at him.

"He said it was some of the best work he'd seen lately." she was radiating a kind of fulfilled contentment that he only dreamed he could possess for himself. He was proud of her. He looked pointedly at his wife. She simply rolled her eyes and took another sip of her wine.

It was at that moment that he felt the ground start to shake. The chandelier rattled over their heads.

The wailing of the emergency klaxons began sounding less than a moment later.


	14. Lese Majesty

_Lese Majesty  
(n.): A crime, especially high treason, committed against the sovereign power_

* * *

He was going as fast as he was able. He was going to kill her. If she was still here, he was going to kill her. She was supposed to contact him if anything had changed. He was still trying to come to terms with the fact that she was supposed to be transferred in a week, but she had warned him that they might try and collect her early. He still thought it was a bad idea for her to leave when she was still so weak. Three weeks-worth of medication put a noticeable dent in her symptoms, but she was still stumbling if she took a step too fast, and she was still worryingly pale. He didn't even want to think about the massive nose bleeds she still seemed to get every night. She had tried reassuring him that they would have her records and adequate medication where she was being transferred, but it didn't stop him from worrying.

It was worry that was propelling him forward now, at full speed, towards the hangar. Worry that he had missed her leave, worry for her well-being, and most of all, worry that this might be the last time he'd ever see her. He tried to pay as little attention as he could to these kinds of thoughts as he hurried up the corridor, but it was almost impossible.

He reached the busy hangar and looked around. At first he saw nothing but the usual business; starships being refueled, flight deck officers talking amongst themselves, and astromechs being tuned. He hobbled as quickly as he could behind shuttles and dodged members of the flight deck crew, looking around frantically. She had to still be here, she had to be. He was coming close to just calling out for her, when he heard her voice. He ducked around a repulsorlift carrying a bunch of containers marked 'spare equipment". There she was, standing at the end of a shuttle gangplank, speaking with an officer in a gray uniform. He approached, relief washing over him. So rarely did he ever actually get to say goodbye to a friend, this time he'd be able to see his comrade off and wish her well. As he drew nearer he caught what the pair were discussing, or rather, what they were arguing very quietly about.

"Just give me two minutes." She said to the officer. He shook his head, looking frustrated.

"We don't have two minutes. I'm taking off in one. If your precious soldier isn't here before then…" but he stopped and looked over Voxx's shoulder right at Jax. So they had been arguing about him. Interesting. Voxx whipped her head around to see what the officer was looking at and a grin split her face. Not even looking to the officer for permission, she hopped down from the loading platform and started his way. Had it really only been seven months? It felt more like a short lifetime since he'd first heard the name Miraan Voxx and been presented to the small, short-tempered woman. It was a little hard to comprehend that after spending most of his life growing close to a group of men who shared his DNA, he had developed a solid relationship in a few short months with a surly female engineer.

Her expression was one of relief, halfheartedly concealed by a bit of wry humor that tugged the corners of her mouth upward. He imagined she could see the same expression mirrored on his face.

"Thought you were going to get away without a goodbye did you?" He asked. She shook her head lightly, coming to a stop right in front of him. She had to look up to meet his eyes as she was a full head shorter than he.

"I've never been good at goodbyes." she said, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her bantha-hide jacket. "I wanted to spare you my ineptitude."

"I knew I'd find your weakness one day." She smiled and he could see the strain it took to make it convincing. So she didn't want to go any more than he did. She averted her eyes for a moment and cleared her throat. She really wasn't good at saying goodbye. He felt a twinge in his chest.

"Voxx!" the officer shouted from the ramp. She turned to look at him and held up her hand. He made a 'get-on-with-it' gesture and jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate that the shuttle was waiting on her. Jax heard her sigh and she turned back to him. She tried to smile at him again but it looked more like a grimace. He appreciated the effort though. She held out her hand to him.

"Lieutenant Jax, it has been a pleasure." She said trying to sound stronger than she really was. He grasped her forearm and, to her surprise and his, he pulled her into a one-armed embrace. She tensed up at the sudden gesture and remained so for half a moment. When she relaxed, he felt her wrap her arms around his middle, her hesitation evident.

"Take care of yourself, Miraan." He said low enough so only she could hear. He heard her exhale sharply in what might have been a laugh or a sob, but right then it didn't really matter. He had said what he needed to say, what she needed to hear, and maybe that would help him later on down the road when he was trying to reason out this newest loss. Hopefully it would bring him some kind of comfort that he had thanked her for everything she'd done for him, whether she knew what that was or not.

Then he felt her trembling. It registered in his mind a half a second before he heard the shout.

"Hey! You don't have clearance for that shuttle!" immediately alarms started sounding in his head. He pulled away from Voxx and looked first at the shuttle and then looked his partner in the face. She had drained of color and her eyes were wide as she looked at him. He could almost feel her heart rate rising. She was terrified.

"Voxx?" he asked slowly, his mind going into overdrive. He kept a grip on her shoulder and felt her shaking. The sound of blasterfire ripped through the air and Jax ducked on instinct and instantly regretted it. Voxx, for all she lacked in height, seemed to make up for it in hand to hand combat. She took the hand that he had kept on her shoulder and twisted it forward, doubling him over. Pain bloomed in his shoulder and he hissed. He felt a knee drive itself hard into his ribcage, pushing the air out of his lungs in a gasp. He fell to his knees, supporting himself on his cane. The sound of blasterfire had intensified and sounded like there was more than one belligerent, but his mind registered that as far away irrelevant noise. He sat there gasping for air and felt a hand brush his. He looked to see Voxx looking at him, tears welling in her eyes. Deep in his chest he felt a dark kind of heat beginning to bloom like a noxious cloud ready to strangle him.

 _Liar_. His mind said as she turned her eyes from him as if he were viewing a slow-motion holovid. _Traitor_. She looked at him again, her tears spilling down her face onto her pale cheeks. She placed a hand softly on his cheek and he tried to pull away. _Imposter_. He saw her mouth move but the sound didn't register. All he could hear was the blood pumping in his ears and the silent accusations that were rushing through his head. He felt a sharp pricking pain in his neck and he felt his head grow heavy. _Liar!_ His vision swam and went dark.

 _Traitor!_

"I'm so sorry, Jax."


	15. Peripetia

_Peripetia  
(n.): A sudden turn of events or an unexpected reversal_

* * *

She had never felt more lost in her life.

She fiddled with the tracking beacon under the navigation console, hoping to quiet the vortex that tore through her head and her heart, leaving a dull aching pulse in its wake. She was supposed to be one of the good guys. One of those who stood against all the Empire stood for. She was supposed to oppose tyranny, oppression, slavery and the practice of lying to people who couldn't know any better. She was supposed to be against the act of rule by force, by taking away people's choices. Yet here she was, lying to achieve an end, deceiving everyone around her for her own gains, and taking away the choices of a man she had come to respect, if not trust. He had done nothing to deserve the position he was in now, except lose his entire squad and his leg. He hadn't deserved to end up under her supervision, but he had.

And where did that leave her? More confused and conflicted than she had ever been. Everything used to be so clear, stark black and white. She was supposed to perform this action to cause this reaction, simple as that. The living, breathing reality was not so simple. Three years on an Imperial Star Destroyer had turned everything she thought she had believed on its head. Despite her best efforts, she had made connections; she had made _friends_. She wondered absently if sleeper agents ever felt this way when they were suddenly called back home. Did they ever feel guilt? Conflict? She couldn't understand the desire to infiltrate a community and deceive them completely. But that was exactly what she had done! The knowledge of what she had done clawed at her, tearing her apart from the inside. She didn't realize how hard she was shaking until Aeron pulled her out from under the console by her ankles.

"Miraan?" he asked, having dropped his tough Imperial Officer act. Now he looked at her with earnest blue eyes. She took a deep breath to help stop the shaking in her limbs. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." She said a little more sharply than she'd intended. Aeron blinked for a moment, almost as if he were unsure of what to say. "Thank you." She added as an afterthought. No use to scare the guy after they had just been reunited. Truthfully she didn't know Aeron that well, but the powers that be had wanted two people for this assignment so they picked candidates based on skills and not their espionage experience. She had been selected because of her mechanical expertise and Aeron had been selected because of his history as a lower Officer in the Clone Wars. He was a bit older than her but he seemed to treat her warily. They hadn't exactly been on the same side during that particular conflict.

"Alright." He said, moving back towards the pilot's seat. "Let me know when you've disabled the tracking beacon." She said nothing in return, opting to go right back to work. She let the device consume her vision and for a moment she found herself wishing that this feeling of guilt and conflict were as easy to turn on and off as the tracking function on the shuttle. It would certainly make facing the clone, who was currently unconscious in the passenger bay, a lot easier. It would also make facing her people simpler.

But nothing could be done about it now. She just had to decide how she was going to live with herself now. Or if she even _could_ live with herself.

* * *

 _Come in_ Renegade _, this is_ Infiltrator. Renegade _, this is_ Infiltrator, _come in. Repeat this is_ Infiltrator _coming across secure frequency nine-one-oh-two-four, come in_ Renegade _. Over_

 _Receiving you_ Infiltrator _this is_ Renegade. _What is your position? Over._

 _We are approximately five parsecs outside the lesser arm of the Lantillian Route in the Japrael Sector. Coordinates oh-four-five-two-three. It's good to hear a friendly voice again. Over_

 _Likewise,_ Infiltrator. _Confirm your crew and transponder code so we don't have any unfortunate misunderstandings. Over._

 _We are showing as an Imperial Short-Range Shuttle, code S-R-eight-three-seven-oh. Crew; Aeron Jescal, Miraan Voxx, and an unexpected passenger. We had to take a hostage to ensure escape. Over_

 _Get rid of the hostage and we'll see you in about an hour. Over_

 _Copy that,_ Renegade. Infiltrator _out_.

* * *

 **What? What do you mean I'm a week late? How did that happen? How long was I asleep? WHAT YEAR IS IT!? In all seriousness, my apologies for my tardiness I wish I had a better excuse other than I wanted to play with my family in our first big snow of the season, but that's really all it was. So enjoy the angst, and hopefully I'll see you all on time next week.**


	16. Schism

_Schism  
(n.): Division or disunion, especially into mutually opposed parties._

* * *

At first all he could feel was the blood rushing through his veins. He realized quickly that he was coming out of an unconscious state but couldn't quite remember what had led to it. He did what he had been trained to do. He took inventory of his body. He was aware of his head, neck, arms, fingers, torso, and leg. The rational part of his brain told him why he couldn't sense his other leg, but his heart sped up when he couldn't feel flesh and blood. Gently, he moved each finger and each toe, checking for injury to his extremities. When he felt no pain, he inhaled slowly. A small ache in his ribcage twinged but he dismissed the injury as minor. It smelled different here, not like the medbay or the barracks. Where was he?

The memories hit him so fast he might have doubled over had he been standing. The sensation was not unlike a punch to the gut. The hangar, the shuttle, the shooting, the Officer, Voxx. _Voxx_. She was a traitor! He had to tell someone. His heart rate was rising fast. He had to do something!

He opened his eyes to a dark room. A small dark room, almost too small for the bunk he was occupying that had been shoved against one wall. He saw the only other piece of furniture in the room was an empty chair standing beside the door. He could see light filtering through the small gap between the door and the floor. He could hear voices from outside but they were too muffled for him to make sense of what they were saying. He made to sit up and felt resistance. He looked down to find that both his hands were clasped in binders and secured to the safety bars on either side of the bunk.

" _Fek!_ " he muttered to himself. He'd been taken prisoner. Part of him was certain that Voxx had drugged him and kidnapped him, but the other part was reluctant to believe that his partner could do anything like this. The rational part of his mind told the sentimental part to shove it. He was sitting here, on a ship he didn't recognize, cuffed to a bed in a very likely locked room. What did he do with this?

' _Patience_ ,' he told himself. ' _You can't escape with a bunk cuffed to both hands, let this play out_.' The voices outside were growing louder and he could make out more of what was being said.

"…s an Imperial soldier, and a member of the 501st to boot! How could you be so stupid?!" came a male's raised voice. It was hard and rasping, like he'd spent too much time around a ship's exhaust port. He heard a reply, a woman's voice. It was too quiet to make out what she said, but the lilt was familiar enough. He could guess who was arguing with the man.

"He's one of the 501st, Vader's Fist! Now tell me that you are absolutely certain that the Emperor's personal guard Akk won't bring the Nine Corellian Hells down on us if he finds this clone in our possession." There was no reply this time.

"Just what I thought," the man growled. "Blow him out of the airlock and we'll go home before we're missed." His blood ran cold. So he was going to be killed then. Shoved out of the airlock to suffocate in space. He shuddered. The thought of dying cold and alone without even the comfort of hearing his own screaming was enough to make the bile rise in the back of his throat.

"Get out of the way, Miraan!" the man shouted. He heard footsteps shuffle back and forth in front of the door. Then the woman's familiar voice, slipped under the crack in the door. It was low and dangerous.

"You will enter this room only when the last breath has left my body." Great, he thought, now the woman who had betrayed his trust and abducted him in the same day was the only thing standing between him and death. There was irony in there somewhere, but for the sake of his life he hoped her resolve won out in the end. The man spoke again.

"Miraan, you've always been overly dramatic. Put the blaster down. Do I have to remind you how much destruction they caused?" The man was speaking cautiously now. Trying to calm the crazy woman with the blaster. He could just picture Miraan brandishing a blaster, a serious look crossing her face.

"Do I have to remind you who you're talking to, Pyle?" Miraan replied, he filed the man's name away when he heard it. You never knew what kind of intel would be useful down the line. "I know three years is a long time but I didn't think your memory would be that bad." There was a heavy pause followed by an equally heavy sigh.

"Forgive me, I do remember, but that just gives you the most cause to want him off this ship."

"He has done nothing to me. All he's done to deserve this is being in the worst place at an even worse time. Add being lied to by the Empire he trusted and served, and his sob story is sounding pretty familiar don't you think?"

"Miraan…" It was the man's turn to growl dangerously.

"I will not move, Pyle. If you want me out of the way then you will have to shoot me." There was a pause so long that he began to suspect that whoever this Pyle was had actually decided to shoot Miraan and a part of him ached at that thought. The part of him that still wanted to trust Miraan. Then he heard another heavy exhale.

"I'm not going to shoot you, but we are not done with this, Miraan. We will be talking to the delegation about your little friend. Don't think you can protect him indefinitely. He doesn't deserve it."

"Only the Empire would judge a man before he's had a chance to say his piece." Miraan bit out, clearly attempting to insult the man she was arguing with. "You don't know him." At this point during his eavesdropping on the conversation right outside, he became painfully aware of a cold pool coalescing in his gut. He recognized it all too well as adrenaline flooding his system, a feeling that usually preceded battle, but here was just a reaction to the white-hot rage boiling his blood.

She may have been defending him, but he would never again trust Miraan Voxx. He'd offered her his trust almost blindly, stupid genetic tampering making him more docile. Then in one swift moment, she'd torn that trust to shreds. He shook his head and leaned back on the bunk. All those stories she'd told him about being raised in a shipyard, half-sister of a senator, running to the aid of the New Empire for the chance to work on a Star Destroyer. Probably a load of nerf fodder. He couldn't believe anything she said or did, and that notion crawled its way into his chest and ached. He'd trusted her, they'd been good friends, partners, and now he was here, a prisoner of strangers, wishing he could have the last seven months of his life back.

* * *

 **Well, well, well, what's this? An on time update (more or less)? It must be Christmas, or my birthday or something. Let's just chalk it up to a Valentine's day miracle and leave it at that. Hope you enjoy and please consider leaving a review, I'm really hurting for them.**


	17. Acrimony

_Acrimony  
(n.): Sharpness, harshness, or bitterness of nature, speech, disposition, etc._

* * *

She had realized that Pyle wouldn't be happy with her bringing Jax onboard, she knew he wouldn't be happy after she had threatened Aeron on the shuttle, and she was almost positive he wouldn't be happy with her pointing a blaster at him after he threatened to throw Jax out the airlock, but she did think he was overreacting just a bit by sending the Delegation a transmission before they jumped to hyperspace. She could hear him from where she was standing guard outside what used to be her bunkroom, but was now a holding cell for an insanely hacked off clone. He wasn't exactly being discrete about it and the _Renegade_ wasn't that big of a cargo ship, mid-range freighter at the absolute largest and sound carried. The names he was making up for her were really rather creative.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor and Miraan's grip on the old DC-15 tightened. She'd already told Pyle she wouldn't be moved and he knew he couldn't make her, but some of the other crew didn't know her as well as he did. The door at the end of the corridor opened and a younger nautolan woman walked through clad in pilot's gear. Miraan lowered the blaster as the woman smiled at her.

"Natii." She greeted with a nod of her head.

"Miraan," she returned the greeting and held out a metal canteen and a small container of what Miraan could only guess were ration bars. "I thought you might be hungry, you and Aeron haven't eaten since you came onboard." She smiled at Natii and slung the DC onto her shoulder by the webbing. She reached out to take the proffered food and water and saw Natii peer over her shoulder like she was expecting someone to come through the door any second. She leaned in conspiratorially. "There's enough for him too. I made sure." A grin split Miraan's face as she tried to suppress the urge to hug Natii around the neck. Finally she wasn't alone in her desire to protect a life.

"Bless you, Natii." She said. The woman's large, dark eyes shone and her smile widened.

"Want me to guard for a bit?" she asked, indicating the blaster. "I imagine you two have some things to discuss." The lump in her throat grew. She'd forgotten how perceptive the Nautolan could be. Truthfully she really didn't want to enter the room yet. She didn't feel ready to face the man she had willfully betrayed. The ache in her chest felt ready to swallow her whole. She managed a strained smile.

"Thank you, but I think I'd rather have this discussion without an audience." She said, doing her best to keep her voice even. Natii nodded her understanding, not taking the slightest offense. She turned and made her way back towards the door.

"I'll try and keep everyone else occupied. Holler if you need backup." The woman said over her shoulder. Miraan allowed herself a deprecating smile.

"Trust me," she said under her breath. "You'll hear me." And with one last minuscule prayer to the Force and a squaring of the shoulders, she opened the door that separated her from Jax.

She wasn't entirely certain what she expected to find when she entered the room, so she wasn't truly surprised when she opened the door and saw Jax supine on the bunk just staring up at the ceiling, blinking every few seconds. His expression was blank. Opting to maintain the relative calm, she didn't speak right away and instead crossed to the seat beside the doorway and unfolded a small workstation from the wall. She set the canteen and the box of ration bars down and shrugged the DC off her shoulder. She took a handful of the bars and strode over to the bunk where the clone lay, refusing to look at her. She undid the binder that kept his right arm attached to the safety bar and shoved the food into his hand. Taking only a moment longer to visually trace the scar on his face, she turned back to the collapsible workstation and sat down to partake in her own meal of ration bars and water. Several minutes passed before she heard the sound of crunching from the bed and saw Jax actually eating. That gave her a small glimmer of satisfaction. At least he would eat what she gave him. That was something. She munched lazily on the bland, highly nutritious foodstuff and looked around at her old room. It wasn't exactly like her quarters on the _Devastator_ , but the similarity was striking. They were both extremely simplistic in their decoration, if you could even call a small holoprojector with a handful of sentimental holos stored on it decoration. They had only allowed her a set of her old clothes and one personal item when she had entered the Imperial Navy, everything else would be provided. She had been content with just her projector and her bantha-leather jacket. She sighed and leaned back in her seat. It certainly wasn't much but after three years behind enemy lines it was good to be home.

She braved a glance at the bunk and saw that Jax had finished with his food and returned his gaze to the ceiling. She stood and crossed over to the bunk and set the canteen down beside his unbound hand. A pang of regret lanced through her chest again. He didn't deserve this. She turned to go back to the small workstation when a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Jax's grip was strong enough to hold her where she was and she had to stamp down the years upon years of ingrained instinct that told her to attack. She looked down at the soldier, who was staring at her as he had been staring at the ceiling. His gaze was sharp and critical, like he was trying to see through her. She offered nothing as she didn't know what he wanted. The two of them just stared at one another, silently trying to reconcile what had happened to them.

"Why?" he asked finally. His voice was low and breathy as if he didn't want to shatter the quiet of the bunkroom. His eyebrows knit together as he stared up at her. There was pain in his eyes. Pain that she had caused. That same cutting feeling of regret sliced through her heart.

"You'll have to be more specific." The pain in his eyes twisted into anger and his grip on her wrist tightened until she hissed and attempted to pry his grip from her arm.

"You know _kriffing_ well what I mean." He snarled at her, all traces of pain evaporating from his expression, replaced with a convoluted anger that twisted his handsome face into something ugly and foreign. Her attempts to pry his hand from her wrist only served to make him more determined to keep it there. So she finally mustered the courage and will to look him in the eye.

"Jax," she said slowly, her voice low, attempting to talk him down like she would a cornered animal. "You are hurting me. Please let go." She could feel her heartbeat in her hand and she could see the skin under his fingers turning red. She rested her free hand lightly on top of his and felt his grip loosen ever so slightly. The anger in his eyes did not fade though.

"Tell me." he hissed. "Tell me why you lied to me." Underneath his obvious rage there was a small undercurrent of urgency, of desperation, of pain. He had to know. He had to know why someone he had come to think of as his friend had done what she had done. He needed to hear her defend her actions against him.

"I never lied to you." she said. The words were out of her mouth before she had time to consider them. Of course he wouldn't see it that way, but while he had her in his grip, she had his full attention, so maybe she would be able to explain herself. His upper lip curled into a snarl but he said nothing so she continued, trying to pick her words with more care.

"Everything I ever told you, every conversation we had, and every word that came out of my mouth was the truth." she said. Without a word, Jax jerked her forward so that she was almost doubled over the safety bar of the bunk. He brought his face so close to hers that their noses were less than an inch from each other.

"Then I'm more interested in the truth that you neglected to tell me." his voice was dangerously low, crackling with barely-contained rage. She began to feel her own anger rising in her gut, tramping out some of the disgust and regret she felt. She was not going to be intimidated into giving him information, especially when she had planned on telling him everything anyway. She pulled her wrist towards her as much as she could and closed the distance between their faces. Her forehead knocked against his rather painfully, but she buried her wince in the deep folds of her own anger.

"I'm not afraid of you, Jax. As long as you keep hurting me, I won't tell you anything." Beneath her feet, she felt the deck shudder. They must have made the jump to hyperspace. The fact settled into the back of her mind like a second consciousness.

"I could break your wrist and two places in your arm from here." He threatened, but under the layered tones of his rage, she could hear a note of reluctance seep into his voice. She knew very well that he could, but she knew even better that he wouldn't.

"What's stopping you then?" she growled. His eyes darkened and his grip tightened and for one horrifying second, she thought he was actually going to snap the bones in her wrist. Then she noticed he was shaking, whether from the force it was taking to try and injure her or the force it took to restrain himself, she didn't know. The longest heartbeat of her life came and went and Jax finally released her. She pulled away immediately, covering her sore wrist with her good hand. She backed away from the man on the bunk until she felt the cold durasteel wall press against her back. She leaned on it for some semblance of support.

"You can start by telling me who you really are." He said. She looked back up at him to see he was glaring at her. She inhaled deeply. It was going to be painful either way. It would be better to just get it over with.

"My name is Miraan Aurelia Voxx. I was born in the Jaemus system. I had an older half-sister, an older brother, and a younger sister. My mother was a delegate of the Jaemian Parliament and my father was a member of the Galentro Heavy Works Trust Committee. My older sister was the Jaemian representative of the Separatist Senate. Yes, Jax, I _was_ a Separatist. My brother was a young member of the Jaemian Royal Guard." She paused and took a breath. Just recounting their careers drove a searing pain into her chest. But she had already begun so she had to finish. "I am now a member of an organization called the Nova Corps. I'm the Captain of Fifth Company, Frontline Engineers." She said, looking at her wrist. She realized with a sinking feeling that it was already starting to bruise. She placed her hands behind her back and looked at Jax, determined to finish what she had now started. "We do everything within our power to cripple, oppose, and generally make mayhem for the Empire."

"Why?" he asked almost incredulously.

"Your Empire is not a humanitarian state, Jax. It has a long reach and its hands are soaked in the blood of innocent lives." She said bitterly. "It used to be the duty of the people to speak out if their government was corrupt or ineffective, now it's their death sentence."

"Creation of the Empire was the only way the Republic could maintain lasting peace." Jax said resolutely. She looked at him, suddenly feeling her anger and bitterness melt away and in its place a cold pool of regret and pity settled at the pit of her stomach. So he had been duped into serving the Empire. She realized then with a pang of guilt that she was about to take everything he had ever known and turn it on its head, but he had to know. All she could do was hope he was well enough equipped to handle another's point of view.

"Do you really believe that?"


	18. Recusant

_Recusant  
(adj.): Refusing to submit, comply, etc._

* * *

No one seemed to realize how badly prisons smelled. In all the holovids, they were clean, well-equipped establishments that lacked the permeating smell of urine, sweat, and bile. The clothing itched too. They certainly glossed over that in the holodramas. She could remember her first night here, gagging on the smells and tossing and turning all the night long because of the hard bunk and the clothes. And the nightmares. The nightmares of a horrifying creature with black eyes, bloody jaws and long nails, dripping with blood. She would always see it when she closed her eyes, standing over her bed or in the corner of the cell. She could remember seeing it at least three or four times that first night and each time she awoke screaming to the ire of the guards. After the first two times, they stopped coming in to check on her. It didn't make any difference.

The part in the holovids about prison fights was true, in fact she had mused to herself more than once, that the fights were the only part of prison that the holodramas got right. Even in the women's wing fights were frequent. Putting a bunch of murderous and dishonest women in the same space and there were bound to be some altercations. Her first fight was not one that she started.

She was a tank of a woman who blocked the way to her table during meal time.

"Well, well. You're new." She said, her mouth full of whatever the suspicious green glop was they were serving today. "What'd they get you for, pipsqueak? They catch you stealing mommy's credits?" she turned to laugh with her posse who were standing just off to the side. Along with being abnormally large, she must have been abnormally stupid as well to overlook the shackles that encircled her wrists, ankles and neck. She must have been partially blind as well if she missed it when she was escorted in by four shock troopers only minutes before.

She took the opportunity of the woman's momentary distraction and sidestepped her to make it to her table. She heard a loud exclamation from the large woman that might have been an attempt to get her attention, but just sounded like a tauntaun trying to gargle.

A hand grabbed her roughly by the collar of her itchy, orange jumpsuit and turned her back to face the large woman who was now angry for some reason.

"I asked you a question scrawny." She said, spitting in her face. She did her best not to gag as she wiped the spittle away. Trying to keep her anger in check, she responded to the bantha of a woman.

"It's not any business of yours." She responded calmly. The woman drew back to throw the comment back to her group, who snickered and exchanged knowing looks. Then she leaned back in, too close for her liking.

"Everything here is my business, and everything here is mine. I've been here the longest and I run this block." The woman said, reaching a hand up and stuffing it into her tray of food. "You keep that in mind, pipsqueak, and we'll get along just fine." She stuffed some of the now-inedible food into her wide mouth and chewed loudly. She felt her lip draw upwards in a disgusted sneer.

"I don't want to get along, I want to be left alone." The words were out of her mouth in a snarl before she could stop them and immediately she knew she had made a mistake. The bigger woman froze mid-mastication and stared at her in disbelief. She just stared right back. After everything she'd seen, she wouldn't be scared off by this monstrosity. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a small crowd gathering to watch the interaction. The woman, apparently finding her senses again, raised a thick hand and knocked her tray to the floor with a loud metal clang. Both her hands joined in lifting her by the collar so high that her feet lost contact with the floor and she had to look down to make eye contact with the woman.

"Too late for that short-stuff." the woman growled, finally having swallowed the food in her mouth. "You're gonna wish you'd stayed in your cell, girl." Finding the urge to speak again, she sneered at bantha-woman.

"I was wishing that as soon as they made me leave."

"Yeah? Well let's give you a nice broken limb or two and you won't have to worry about it." It almost came as a surprise that the woman actually thought she was being threatening. Not that she thought the woman wouldn't snap her arm clean in two, but she just couldn't seem to find the will to be afraid of her.

Instead she found the will to bring her knee up into the woman's jaw. One of her meaty hands came loose from her collar and found itself caught between her teeth. The woman howled and dropped her to the floor where she fell in a heap before picking herself up. The woman came right back at her with her good hand balled into a fist. She dodged it with relative ease and took a hold of her wrist and hooked her foot around the woman's ankle causing her to fall forward. With the woman's arm still in her grip, she knelt down and looked at her. Anger was coursing through her veins, white-hot and aching to be let out.

"I watched my mother, my father, and my sister dragged out into the street and executed." She hissed, taking a hold of one of the woman's thick fingers and twisting. The snap was drowned out by the woman's scream. "I watched my planet drown in blood, smoke and fire." Another finger snapped. "I watched my five-year-old sister gunned down and her murderers walk away. Another loud snap, the woman was whimpering small words and gurgling at the back of her throat. "I bludgeoned two clones in full armor to death with a wrench." She said, her voice still low. The woman's face went from splotchy red to a sickly beige faster than she could blink. "You think that someone like you is going to scare me?"

"Y-you're the war criminal they were talking about." The woman shook her head slightly, her eyes wide. "You're so young."

"You're right, and you just piss me off." With that said, she stood and placed her booted foot on the woman's shoulder. The sound of her shoulder dislocating from its joint came with a rather satisfying sound were it not for the woman's screams.

The altercation earned her two weeks in solitary. She was fine with that outcome.

* * *

 **Whew! Gruesome woman-on-woman prison violence. Any younglings out there scarred yet? Speak now or forever hold your peace, cuz it's not stopping here.**

 **One of two rather major-ish announcements: We're getting to the tail end of my pre-written chapters, we have about three after this. So once that comes to pass, updates will be pushed to once every other week. Not necessarily every other Wednesday, but whenever I have time to update during that week.**

 **No. two: Okay guys this is the eighteenth chapter for this story in about twenty weeks. Shit's about to get real so I need real feedback. I hate to have to do this but its getting a little ridiculous. So if there are still no reviews by the time I post chapter nineteen next week, I will withhold releasing chapter twenty until I have at least one review for this story. I realize this is somewhat petty and it may strangle and kill this story, but I post stories here first because I value this community's opinion and advice. I post stories here because I want to get better and I need your help to do that.**

 **Enjoy this chapter and I'll see you next week.**


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